For Who They Really Are
by Klumsy-Kimchi
Summary: Charlotte Williams was living the high life in London... until she realized how poorly the British were treating Americans. When she tells her father, he goes absolutely berserk. Who knew a little Mohawk boy might save her life? What if she runs into her father again? Does he even know she's alive? Connor/OC M for violence and others :)
1. Forward

**Introducing: Charlotte! My new character :3 Now, I know what you're thinking. God, really? ANOTHER AC fanfic? Why, yes... another... Connor is just too awesome not to write something!**

**Hope you like!**

**Edit: I made her older... under careful consideration of InkOverLoad's comment... Thanks a bunch! :D  
**

* * *

**Forward**

"Miss Charlotte! Are you ready to go? Your mother and father are waiting for you by the carriage!" Lydia called from the foot of the stairs.

"I'll be there in a minute!" I replied. I took one last fleeting glance at my half-empty room, carrying whatever wouldn't fit in my bags loosely in my arms. I whirled on my heel, shutting the door loudly, and trotted down the stairs.

Awaiting me was the very same woman who was more of a mother to me than my real mother ever was. Now, don't get me wrong, my mother loved me dearly, and the feeling was mutual. But she hardly ever had time for me. When she wasn't with my sister, Agatha, she was pacifying father. Father was a good man, really. But he had a terrible temper. One mishap and he was frothing at the mouth. My sister was always sick. She'd constantly cough. Maybe she'd even sneeze when she wasn't bedridden. Honestly, I wondered why my sister was even going on this voyage, or why, with his quick temper, father was even a General at all.

When I was young, I often wondered what it would be like to be in one of my favorite fairytales. What it would be like to have a handsome prince sweep me off my feet. And, more often, what my happy ending would be like. I'd soon learn, however, that life is not a fairytale. And there is no such thing as happy endings.

**Chapter One- See Them for Who They Really Are**

Lydia stopped me before I could get to the door. "You'll need a jacket, sweet. I don't want you to catch a cold."

As I shifted the items in my arms, putting my free arm through my outstretched jacket, I said, "Oh, please. You and I both know I never get sick." At ten, I was awfully mature. With mother, father, Agatha, and Lydia, our housemaid, always busy, I had nothing I'd rather do than to read. In London, (in the words of Lydia) it was always either "Too hot!" or "Too cold!" or any other weather condition you could think of, so going outside was usually out of the question. Plus, I almost never had anyone to play with! What fun would that be?

"Yes, Charlotte, I know," Lydia sighed. "But would you just wear it anyway?"

I smirked up at her, coat fully on. "I am, aren't I?"

She rolled her eyes, but smiled down at me anyway. "I'm going to miss you, little one," she murmured, eyes suddenly sad.

Though I was sad as well, I tried not to show it. "I'll be back in a year! Father said that it won't take too long for those ignorant Colonists to give in!" I chirped.

Lydia frowned. "Don't ever think that way. People are people. We are all the same. The Americans are no better or worse than us." She leant down to my height. "Promise me something, little one. When you meet an American, anyone for that matter, see them for who they really are. Not for how people have branded them. You never know, that person may play the biggest role in your life."

I nodded. "Okay." Who knew that that advice would change my life forever.

Lydia stood once again, taking my small, soft hand, in her larger, rougher one. "Come on. Let's not keep your parents." She led me through the foyer and out into the winter. Snow had blanketed the ground, and everything seemed a constant shade of white. A blank canvas, awaiting an artist to fill it with beautiful images.

Without a word, she led me to the awaiting carriage. The driver went to open the door. It was almost comical; how he waddled to it. By no means was he fat, but he was so bundled up that his arms stuck out from his sides like a penguin. I wondered idly if Agatha knew what a penguin was. She had missed so many days of tutoring stuck in in bed.

"Here you are, sweet. Get into the carriage," Lydia told me. I wouldn't budge from my spot, realization finally kicking in that I would be leaving Lydia for a year, possibly even more. Lydia, who carried me inside when I broke my leg. Who pacified me when I had found a dead rabbit in our front lawn. Who would come to my side when I had a nightmare, and sing me to sleep with her melodious voice. How I even got to the carriage without breaking down into a puddle of tears was a mystery to me.

I leapt forward, clasping my arms around Lydia's waist. "Why can't you come with me?" I realize now that I didn't say "us", but "me".

Lydia wrapped her own, strong arms around my shoulders. "Oh, sweetheart. You know why. I have to stay and watch over the manor while your parent are away." She placed a gentle kiss atop my head and smiled down at me. "Go now, Charlotte. It won't be long before we see each other again. You'll have to tell me of your endeavors while in America. Perhaps keep a journal to keep all your thoughts down." She handed me a thick, blank, leather-bound book.

I nodded solemnly, untangling my arms to hold the book to my chest. "I will. I'll write everyday. I promise." I turned to the awaiting open carriage door. I whirled around one last time and said, "I love you!"

Lydia smiled warmly. "I love you too, my little sunbeam," she cooed, cupping my face gingerly, and wiping away a sole tear. It would be a long time before I heard that name again.

When I got into the carriage, I did not look out my window. Even as we drove away from the manor in London, I kept my eyes plaster on the books in my lap- they were what would not fit in my bags- in fear that, if I did, if I looked at Lydia, I'd burst out into tears, and I didn't want Agatha to laugh at me. Now, I don't think I would've minded the humiliation.

It was a while before anyone said anything. Agatha had fallen asleep on mother, who was busying herself with Aggie's brown curls. I had always wondered why I had red hair and green eyes, whilst the rest of my family were brown on brown. When I would ask Lydia, she would say, "Because, when you were born, it was so sunny out that the sun had colored your hair, my little sunbeam. And your eyes are green for you ability to be one with nature." Which was true, the nature part, anyway. Whenever our tutor would have Aggie and I grow plants to further study science, mine would always flourish, while Aggie's always withered. And when we'd play hide-and-seek in the forest, I was the only one who could hide perfectly well in the foliage, and could easily maneuver the terrain without making a sound. I was smarter, though that probably had to do with Aggie always being sick. She always had the uncanny ability to read something and memorize it perfectly, which is probably why she was so much better at the piano compared to me. While my fingers stumbled and I had to constantly crane my neck to look at the sheet music, making for a horrid take on Beethoven, Aggie's fingers played out the most beautiful song you've ever heard, for a five year old. As a lady in England, we were required to know how to play piano and sing. And while Aggie was a whiz at the piano, her singing sounded much like she was dying. But I had always been praised for my voice, and that I must've taken after my mother. However, Aggie had also always had a knack for drawing. I won't even get into the terrible tale of how my sketch of a butterfly was thought to be that of a wilted flower.

When Agatha awoke about two hours later, she spoke for the first time out of all of us in the time we had been in the carriage. "Father?" she said in her small voice. "What are you looking at?"

Our father lifted his head from at least a half a dozen papers. "I am trying to figure out where to position my men, dear," he explained absently.

"Why are we going to the colonies, anyway?" she pressed. I rolled my eyes. Shouldn't that be obvious? Father was a General for the British army. The others had called upon him.

Next to me, father chuckled. "Because, Agatha," he began "those Americans just don't know when to give up. They continue to fight for 'freedom'. I fear that this might even bring on a war!" He lifted his hands in air quotes at the word "freedom".

"They must be really stupid, then," Aggie concluded, a small frown playing on her face.

Father said nothing, but Lydia's words rang through my head. _See them for who they really are._ So, I said the first thing that came to my mind. "You're the stupid one. Have you ever met any of these people?" I left no room for answer. "No, of course not. You shouldn't judge someone before you meet them, Agatha. You just make yourself look foolish and rude."

Agatha and mother gasped. "Charlotte Elizabeth Williams!" mother shouted, and I knew I was in trouble. It always meant trouble whenever she used my full name. "Don't you ever class your sister 'stupid' again! Do you hear me?"

I hung my head, but inside I knew I was right. "Yes, mother," I muttered. Mother went to comfort the now crying Agatha, and father turned his head to look at me with disapproval, but he didn't day anything. I wonder now if he was truly pondering what I had said.

From then on, the ride to the port was quiet and tense. Every now and then I would catch Agatha making nasty faces at me. Never once did I return them. Instead, I smiled at my brooding sister, throwing her for a tizzy every time.

When we reached the port, I gazed longingly at the vast ocean, though I didn't seem as enthusiastic as Agatha, who had her face plastered eagerly against the carriage window.

The driver opened my side first, and I thanked him when he helped me down. I was immediately intrigued by the hustle and bustle of the port. I watched as merchants and traders tried eagerly to sell their wares, and I marveled at the sheer size of the ships. I had never seen a ship in real life, only in paintings. I wondered if Lydia had ever seen one.

I was extremely glad when men brought our luggage to the largest ship and giddy when we climbed onto it. Though I was sad to see the retreating lands of my country, I was eager to see what America had in store for me.

That night, I opened the book and wrote (as maturely as I possibly could):

Dear Lydia,

Although the trip on the carriage was nearly uneventful, I believe I should share with you one thing. I called Aggie stupid. I used the knowledge you have told me. She judged the Americans before she met them. I thought it only right to correct her. Oh, how could I forget? The ship we are on is large and cozy. I only wish you could see the ocean as I have! Oh, but Aggie is sick again. She keeps claiming that it's the ship. But I can't see how a ship like this could ever make anyone sick!

I also can't help but wonder what America will show me! I want nothing more than to explore its vast wilderness. But father says I shouldn't. That there are savages out there, primitive people. Oh, but Lydia! How I'd love to meet one! Father says that they 'live off the land' in more ways than I could imagine. Now I itch with eagerness to speak to one!

Love,

Your little Sunbeam

My "itch" would soon be scratched.

* * *

**Did ya like it? I have two more chapters already written... but I will have to put them up tomorrow! And historical mess-ups, please call me out! **


	2. Happy Tidings

**Chapter two :D **

***sigh* i guess i should get to this review first TT_TT **

**"Cool Reviewer": I don't even... Look, I respect and understand your opinion. But seriously? ****_One _****chapter. I'd say I'm sorry that you didn't like it... but honestly your last two sentences blew that away. Being rude and disrespectful like that does not make you "cool". It makes you seem, well, rude and very disrespectful. What did you expect when you read the summary? I wanted to write this, so I should be able to. If you'd send me a link of your story (but it seems that you're not reviewing under an actual username), I'd gladly read it. But I would not tell you that mine "fucked yours up." Seriously? Have you ever heard the saying "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all"? Think about it. It'll get you places. Constructive criticism is welcomed. Being rude, however, is not. **

**aiurdfoahgvaiwrgawhg **

**sakuraseason: Thank you ^_^**

**Ermolia: Oh when she says like "Who knew that that advice would change my life forever."? Just for the significant parts that will play a role in the rest of the story :) Oh, trust me. You're fine :) I enjoy your reviews and I appreciate that you like what i write :D**

**sleepyprincess: Why thank you! **

**Silemara: Thanks! You'll see ^_^ Not a HUGE age difference... like him being in his teens falling for a little girl or something XD Not to worry!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own assassin's creed 3 (though it'd be awesome if i did!)**

* * *

**Chapter Two- Happy Tidings**

Dear Lydia,

After two months stuck in that stupid ship, we have finally landed in America. It's funny how my opinion of that ship has changed. But spending months on that thing, seeing the same thing everyday day, and living through scary storms really changed my mind. Now, I don't even want to remember what that ship was called.

Oh how beautiful Boston is! I really want to explore the vast wilderness behind my new home. You see, the new house is on the edge of Boston, so I see the forest everyday, but I am forbidden to enter it. I really wish that I could meet a native. Maybe, when we are better settled into this city, father will allow me the liberty to explore the forest!

Speaking of liberty, I have yet to speak to a Colonist. I wonder what they are like? Are they as "barbaric" as father says they are? They don't seem like it. Maybe, they are just as I believe them to be. I have not forgotten your words, Lydia. I still wait to give the Colonists a label until I have actually met them. Perhaps, when I wander the streets tomorrow, I will stay quiet and watch. Yes, that is what I will do.

But I still can't help but wonder (it seems that I cannot get this question out of my mind) what are the natives like?

Goodnight, Lydia. For mother is badgering me to get some sleep.

Love,

Your little Sunbeam

I still laugh at how I went from writing with complete aristocracy, to just jotting down the first words that came to my mind.

That morning, I awoke with a start. It had taken a while for it to finally set in that I was in the colonies.

Immediately, I rushed down the small stairwell to mother. "Mother! Mother!" I called.

Mother appeared from a doorway, boxes in her arms. "Charlotte! Good! I need you and your sister to get some things from the market," she said. She handed me a sheet of paper. On it, a list.

I groaned. "I have to take Aggie?"

Mother tutted. "Yes, of course, and it doesn't hurt you guys to get out. It is the summer, you know."

"Yes and I swear that the summer here is _much _hotter than the summer at home."

"It is a new land, you know. It will take some getting used to."

"Hopefully I'll get used to it fast. I wish to explore this new land, mother."

"Of course you do, sweety," she muttered, turning back to her unpacking. It was obvious that she wasn't listening.

I found Agatha in the main hall, rummaging through a box. "Aggie," I said "Mother wants us to go shopping." I waved the list.

Aggie turned to me, snatching the list from my hand. She looked it over. "I guess we need a lot, huh?"

I nodded. "We need to fill our pantry. Two months on a boat tends to clean you of your food."

Aggie looked at me as though I were dumb. "Yes Charlotte, I know," she growled.

I help my hands up in mock defense. "Best we get going now, if we are to make it back by supper."

"Right then." Aggie pushed past me, to the door. I followed after with a quick roll of my eyes. Aggie had been having some sort of problem with me lately. She was constantly trying to me better me, and whenever I'd say something, she'd reply with a snark remark. I began to wonder what I had done wrong.

Nevertheless, I went out into the market with my little sister. Finally, I couldn't stand the thickness of the silence, so I ripped the list in half.

Aggie looked at me in disbelief. "What are you doing?"

I handed her half of the list. "Here," I said, "You get what's on your half, and I'll get what is on mine." I smiled cheerfully at my grumpy sister. "See ya later, Aggie."

With that, we went our separate ways, though I know now that leaving my sister alone in Boston was not the smartest of ideas. Thankfully, she wasn't harmed. Gradually, I began to collect what was on my list, never once meeting my sister. Generally, my little shopping trip was going well. The Americans were a happy lot, who regarded me equally…only because I was using an Irish accent. Our neighbors were Irish, so I could easily recreate it. I feared that if I spoke in my "posh", English accent, they may look at me differently.

I began to walk up to a fisherman's stand, as a single fish was last on my list, when it was brutally torn down by British troops. Instantly, I ran forward. "Hey!" Everyone's head snapped up to look at me. "Why are you doing this?!" I snapped.

"Listen little girl. What we do is not in your interest. Go back to your mother," a troop barked, shoving past me.

I leant down to help the poor man. "Are you alright?" I asked gingerly as I picked up a fish by its tail and placed it in a basket.

The man looked at me with surprise. "Are you a little British girl? Your accent is awfully… posh," he stated. I must've forgotten to use the Irish accent.

I nodded briskly. "Yes, sir."

The man smiled. "Thank you, little one. Uhm, what might I call you?"

"Just Charlotte is fine," I said, smiling warmly.

The man held out his hand. "Matthew Smith," he stated curtly. I gazed down at his hand. I grasped it firmly, and shook it with fervor.

Very subtly, I saw Matthew look up. Following his gaze, I saw another British troop looming over me. An elder, graying man. I braced myself for another attack.

But none came. Instead, the man leant down with us, and helped us pick up the remnants of the stand.

"I'm sorry, sir," he murmured. "Did my men do this?" Matthew nodded. The strange man frowned. "I really wish they wouldn't do this. Unlike what most Americans think, not all of us British are bad."

Matthew smiled at me, small wrinkles forming around his eyes. "I have noticed," he said.

The British man turned to me. "Are you British as well, little one?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir. My family just arrived from London yesterday."

"Oh?" He seemed to speculate my very being. "Are you General Williams's daughter?"

I shot a nervous glance at Matthew, as if my father's position had marred his opinion of me. But he continued to smile. "Yes," I said.

"Agatha or Charlotte?"

"Charlotte."

"Ahh," he muttered. "You're as beautiful as they say. Red hair such as yours really is a spectacle, Charlotte." His face twisted, as though he had forgotten something. He briefly looked up from his work. "I'm George McClain."

I smiled a "hello", continued on with cleaning up the remnants of the stand. Once finished, I stood. "I must be getting back. My mother expects me," I explained.

Matthew smiled at me. "I hope to see you again, little Charlotte," he cooed.

George stuck out his elbow for me to take. "Come, little miss. I will bring you home."

When we arrived at my home, my father took one look at George and motioned for him to follow him into his office. Unexpectedly, I was sent to my room.

I only wish I had asked why.

Dear Lydia,

Today I finally met an American. Though I fear not under good circumstances. British troops tore down a man's fish stand in the market. I went to help him out, only to find that his name was Matthew Smith. He was a very kind man, and I can't help but laugh now at the way his wrinkles made him look sweeter when he smiled. Even when he found out who I was, he regarded me with kindness and respect. Soon, though, a British man began to help us out. I am glad to report that not all British here are unkind.

When we finished cleaning up Matthew's stand, George, the British man, brought me home. I can only wonder why, when father saw him, did he bring George to his office, and send me up to my room. I wonder… did I do something wrong?"

Love,

Your little Sunbeam

* * *

_**Constructive**_**criticism is welcomed! it's rather said that i have to emphasize that . And yes, coolreviewer, if you'd like to get on my case about that go ahead. I won't yell at you. I don't even know if you're going to read this, nor do i honestly care.**

**To others: sorry, i'm not usually so... "sassy", for lack of better words. **

**I do hope you enjoyed it :)**


	3. A Malevolent End

_**Please note that i have changed Charlotte's age to ten. Thank you to InkOverLoad for the compelling advice.**_

**Whew! The amount of attention this has gotten so far honestly surprises me! Though it may not be much compared to other stories, i'm just happy to be recognized at all :D Thank you to all of those who have favorited, reviewed, followed etc. :D Even if you're just reading it... thank you sooooo much!**

**Alice Williams: ...fancy your last name, love XD Thank you so much! I have to agree with you, I don't particularly like damsels in distress. Though Charlotte is too young to fight now, i assure you that she won't be Connor's 'anchor friend' :)**

**RavingSunshine: obvious troll is obvious XD Thank you so much!**

**Daisygirl95: Thank you so much~~~ **

**Silemara: Sorry about the length . I first wrote it on a notebook, so it seemed a lot longer than it actually was. Please know, though, that some chapters may be short. I will only write until i feel that the chapter is finished. Thank you for the advice on transitions! I'll be sure to keep an eye on that in the future!**

**Mathlover15: If you username is true than might i say congrats! And thank you for liking it! Lol, and i shall be sassayyyy! (God, i'm weird)**

**Guest: Here you are, dear :D**

**Yurei Hanatsuki: Oh really? Thank you :) That's a good idea actually! Adding a little animosity into the story :D and uh... i really feel like i should know what that means... Forgive me... . **

**InkOverLoad: THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! Reviews like yours really keep me motivated! No offense taken at all, trust me! Oh god... I'm sorry about my commas. I've never been particularly good at using them. Usually, they're the only things that get me in trouble in English exams and writings . I'll be sure to keep an eye out for unnecessary commas :)Thank you again for your constructive criticism! **

**ImSoGodLikeIsh: Lol well here you are!**

**rtek: Here you go ^_^**

**TheRose2012: Thanks :) Charlotte's ten :)**

**Narwhal-Unicorns of the Sea: My, your username is awesome xD gotta love them narwhals! Thank you soooo much! I was actually writing this when i got the email of your review XD **

**Disclaimer: Assassin's Creed 3 does not belong to me. But I must congratulate Ubisoft. Truly amazing :D**

* * *

**Chapter Three- A Malevolent End**

As a little girl on the streets of Boston on tends to get asked a few questions, so I wasn't at all surprised when a man around the age of forty came up to me an d asked me where my mother was.

She's at home with my sister," I replied.

He held out a large hand. Here," he said, his voice gravely yet kind "show me the way and I'll take you home. It's too dangerous for a little girl to be out here.

"Okay," I said gleefully and took his steady hand. It's funny how, when you're as young as I was, innocence takes over. How you automatically believe that anyone with a kind face will do you no harm. Now, I probably wouldn't trust any man or woman, for that matter. Thankfully this man who- through some chatting- I learned was called Nathaniel, was true to his word. He led me straight home.

However, when I arrived home father didn't seem too pleased. "You," he said, pointing a finger at Nathaniel. "What are you doing with my daughter?"

Nathaniel placed a gentle hand atop my head. "Charlotte here," he said kindly "was all alone on the streets. Who knows what could have happened to her?"

Father grabbed my hand hard and yanked me inside roughly. He slammed the door behind me, not saying a single word to Nathaniel. Getting to his knees, he took hold of both of my shoulders and shook them roughly. "What do you think you were doing?" he shouted.

"I—" My voice shook. I was scared. Father had never handled me like this.

"You are _not _to converse with those _filthy _Colonists. Do you hear me?!" His rage was evident. I wondered why. I hadn't done anything wrong.

His face contorted suddenly and he pulled me in close. "You're my little girl, and I love you," he cooed.

"Father?" I stuttered cautiously.

"Yes?"

"Why do you call the Colonists 'filthy?" I questioned. "They seem like nice people."

A sudden burst of pain blossomed in my left cheek. It hadn't taken me but a moment to realize that father had slapped me. "Don't you talk like that! You insolent piece of shit!" he screamed as he shook me harder.

I was too scared to scream out. Thankfully mother was home. Or who knows what he might have done to me. "James!" she yelped fearfully. "What are you doing?" Mother came to my aid, yanking me out of father's grasp and out of the way of his rage. She shoved me behind her as she faced father face-to-face. "Why on _Earth _were you doing that to our daughter?"

Father seemed confused. "Doing what?" I blinked in surprise. How could he not know?

"You were hurting her," mother growled in that angry, mother bear sort of way. The way that says: "Hurt my baby again and I will end you".

"Why would I do that?" He seemed genuinely puzzled. As if mother had spoken a completely different language to him or something. .

"James, I think you need some rest," mother said in a kind of tone that gave the other person a hint.

Father's gaze turned knowing, scared even. "Oh," he murmured. He sulked off, emanating an aura of guilt.

I'll give you a hint, if you hadn't already noticed. Father had something seriously wrong with him. It was like he had two personalities. A sweet, loving father, and a horrid tyrant. The worst was, after a tirade like that, he didn't remember doing anything wrong. Mother must have kept a leash on that, though. For whenever he'd get angry, she would send him off to his bed to lay down and cool off. I guess before that day, I hadn't really noticed that anything was wrong. The worst part of it all was that he got violent, and after that day I began to notice it more and more.

There was one instance in which I came home with a young Colonial boy, Edward was his name, and called him my friend. I had met with him many times before and had grown quite fond of him. He was about my age, maybe a year older, and he had shaggy chestnut hair that stuck out every which way and vibrant hazel eyes. He was a bit strange, but I thought it was hilarious. However, when father found out he banned me from ever speaking to another colonist again, and shook me hard enough to leave bruises for a week. Another time, a young woman had brought me back home when I fell and scraped my knee. She was kind, very kind, and I didn't understand why father kept insisting that _she_ had hurt me. And when I tried to defend her, he shoved me out of the way and I hit my head hard on the wall. Those were just the worst of it, though. There were other instances in which his temper got out of control. But those two examples were the only times that mother wasn't there to cool him down. We weren't there for but four months when the unthinkable happened. It had happened like this:

I had just snuck Edward into my room. We were about to plan an escape route into the forest when father came barging in my room, nearly knocking the door down. When he caught sight of Edward, he literally held him up by the back of his shirt and threw him out of the front door.

Then, he blew up at me. He screamed and screamed, some words I'd rather not say, others I'd rather not remember. He began to shake me again, this time digging his nails into my arm. Mother arrived not a moment too soon, and she yanked me away before I could pass out from the immense amount of vigorous shaking being done. Again, she hid me behind her. This time, though, she went full out mama bear on father. She screamed, scratched, and kicked. I could only watch in horror as father began to beat her. He pinned her down, punching her several times in the face. Mother's mouth began to bleed, and I could see teeth litter the floor. I couldn't move, couldn't help but watch, paralyzed, as my father beat my mother to death. The last thing I remember her saying to me was gurgled through blood. "Save yourself, Charlotte."

I ran. I ran as fast as my ten-year-old legs would carry me. Unconsciously, I followed the exact route Edward and I had planned moments earlier. I sprinted to the forest. I could hear father's heavy footsteps behind me, crazed laughter as well. Father had really gone over the tipping point, his rational mind lost.

I was just into the forest when father's blade sliced my arm. When had he gotten so close? When did he get a sword? My mind couldn't dwell on those questions for too long. I needed to get away from him. Far away.

Knowing that he was close behind, I ducked under the lowest branches and ran between the trees with the least distance between them, knowing that he was larger than I, and could not follow me there.

While I was running for my life, I didn't notice the boy. Before I could stop myself, I ran face-first into him. We propelled backward from one another. He muttered something in a language I didn't understand.

"Please," I begged, launching myself to my feet. "Help me."

"With what?" he asked, head tilted to the side so that his long hair fell in front of his face. His accent was barely evident, but it was still there.

Just then, father's manic laugh echoed through the trees. "What was that?" the boy asked.

"Father…" I breathed, completely out of breath. "He's trying… to kill me."

The boy took no further initiative. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me into a strangely arranged pile of branches. He helped me conceal my body beneath the leaves. Quietly, he pointed to the forest. I squinted, trying to make out what he was showing me. Then I saw my father. His face was twisted, his mouth formed into an odd smile, and his eyes casted an insane glance every which way. He was covered in blood. _My mother's blood,_ I realized with a jolt. "Charlotte…" he called eerily. "Oh, dear Lottie, come out come out! I've no time for these games of yours!"

I cowered in the bundle of branches, having to cling to the boy's arm for sanction. Without his steady figure there, I would have probably cried out, giving away my location. Father would have killed me, right there.

For those brief seconds that he looked our way, my stomach twisted and I thought I was going to hurl. His eyes seemed so _feral_. I closed my eyes tight, hoping, praying, that this was all a dream. That I'd wake up in my quaint little room in the manor in London.

But then, father left. Calling my name in the same, creepy way that he had before. The boy next to me waited until father was well out of earshot to pull me out of the branches.

"Thank you so much," I breathed gratefully.

The boy nodded. He gestured to my arm, where father had sliced it with his sword. "Did he hurt you?"

I couldn't help but notice the way my heart swelled up. Taking in his features further, I figured that he had to be around the same age as Aggie. _Aggie. _I prayed that she was alright. Had father killed her too? No. He couldn't have. In the time span that I ran, he could have only run as well. Maybe she had seen him, the way his eyes looked, he way the face of the devil played on his features. Maybe, she ran too.

I couldn't risk it. I had to see that my little sister was alright. I turned to run back, but the boy caught my wrist. "You aren't going back, are you?" he asked.

"I have to," I said, trying to wriggle away. But he had a firm grasp, even for someone as young as he was. I couldn't get free, though I dragged him a few feet. "Please! Let go of me! I have to see that my sister is alright!" I cried… literally. By now, tears welled up in my eyes, overflowing at an alarming rate.

"You can't. He would just kill you!"

I stopped then, looking straight at the boy. It was then that I truly took in his features. He was pretty tall, and his skin was much tanner than mine. His black hair hung loosely to his shoulders except for a single, beaded, braid. His outfit seemed to be made out of some sort of animal skin and it didn't seem to match any fashion in the Colonies. My eyes widened as I realized what he was. _He was a native. An Indian. _

"What is your name?" I asked quietly.

"Ratohnhaké:ton."

* * *

**I apologize if this was shorter than your liking . Im sure some of you are thinking, "My, that escalated quickly!" Why yes! It did! haha, remember, he father's mentally unstable!**

**Also, I'd like to apologize if i offended anyone with her Father's condition. It was not my intention. Please, forgive me, for I was only making him that way for the story's sake. **


	4. New Friend

**Daisygirl95: Thank you so much! :D**

**Kayce Skywalker: Thank you :)  
**

**Cereza101: Oh, thank you! I really tried to build on her character so that she'd be more interesting, meeting Connor included. :) And her mom... I was actually sad to make her die . And thank you again!  
**

**anon: Oh gosh. Thanks for that! I'll be sure to make those changes as soon as possible!  
**

**rtek: Thanks, love! here ya go :)  
**

**RichChatter: Thanks a ton! I'm very glad to know that I've appealed to a picky person (I am a pretty picky person myself)! Thanks a lot ^_^ I'll be sure to keep my story as interesting as possible!  
**

**Xx Super Heroine xX : Thank you ^_^  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's creed 3  
**

* * *

**Chapter Four- New Friend**

Ratohnhaké:ton grabbed my wrist. "Come with me."

I blinked, unmoving in my stance. "Go with you? Where?"

"To my village, my home," he explained matter-of-factly.

I gently pulled my wrist from his grasp. "But won't your people… I don't know… hate me?"

He shrugged. "Maybe."

I huffed. "Well that's not exactly uplifting!" Tears now threatened to spill over my eyes. I did _not _need to go somewhere where people would hate me. That and I was still getting over the initial shock of what could easily be categorized as the worst day of my entire life.

This time he huffed, taking hold of my wrist again. He said nothing as he pulled me along. I didn't put up a fight. I was tired actually, considering all that has happened.

He brought me through such a maze of trees that I would _never_ be able to retrace my steps. Navigation had never been my strong suit. More times than necessary I had gotten lost outside playing hide-and-go-seek with my sister.

We arrived at a sort of fence within minutes. An opening led us into a small town of sorts (too small to be considered a town, I suppose). I guessed this was his village. He continued to pull me to one of the larger… huts. Once there, he called what I can only repeat as "eesta". At least that's what it sounded like. Who knows if I spelled that correctly.

A tall, elder woman stood up. She was beautiful, really. Her hair was parted into two braids. Her tan face sported many freckles and I supposed that was where Ratohnhaké:ton had gotten them. But why was he so much paler than the others?

"Ratohnhaké:ton," she began. Whatever she said next was like Greek to me. I understood none of it. However, the way the words came out of her mouth made them sound almost… regal. And when Ratohnhaké:ton said them they emanated an innocent feel.

They both exchanged many words-I think- before the woman turned to me. "Charlotte?" she called.

"H-how do you know my name?" I asked. I didn't remember ever telling Ratohnhaké:ton my name…

"Your father said it," Ratohnhaké:ton explained. I nodded in understanding.

The woman cleared her throat. "I've come to believe that you cannot go home?"

I waved my hands in front of my face. "I could! I just," I hung my head "I don't want to. Who knows what father would do to me."

"And you can't stay in the forest, the animals would eat you alive," she said.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Well if you were to continue listening to me, you'd know that I mean to ask you to stay here. I cannot, under good consciousness, leave a young girl to her own devices in the forest."

I nodded. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt." I brought my head up to look at her. "Are you sure it would be okay? Wouldn't the others… dislike me?"

She nodded. "Yes." She smirked. "But you have Ratohnhaké:ton and me."

"It's rather hard for me to believe that you'd let me stay here like this. Isn't there something you'd like me to do?"

She laughed. "Of course!" She pointed to a loom in the far corner. "You are to help me with my weavings."

"I-I can try…"

She smiled. "I'll teach you."

Ratohnhaké:ton smiled. "Mother is very good. She'll be a good teacher."

I blinked. "Mother?"

The woman giggled. "Yes, Ratohnhaké:ton is my son." She held her hand out. "Your people do this to greet, right?"

I nodded. I took her hand in a firm grasp and shook it equally as firm. "Charlotte Elizabeth Williams, ma'am. It's nice to meet you."

"My name is Kaniehtí:io," she explained.

My brows furrowed. "I'm sorry?"

She laughed under her breath. "Just call me Ziio."

I nodded.

I had been with the Mohawk for about a month. Ziio was still teaching me how to weave. I wasn't good at it. At all. I was honestly surprised that Ziio hadn't just given up on teaching me. But every time I'd get frustrated, she encouraged me to try again. It was because of her kind words that I continued to try. She'd show me little tricks. She showed me how to put beads on. Still, I failed, but still I tried.

The other Mohawk didn't like me very much. But they didn't outright hate me, for which I was glad. They would treat me with respect, but never as a friend. Understandable, really. I tried my best not to intrude on any of them, keeping close to either Ziio or Ratohnhaké:ton. I suppose that it was safe to say that Ratohnhaké:ton an I were friends. But not on a substantial level. He'd talk to me, but never make a point to include me in any of his friends' games. Again, I understood, and tried not to get in his way.

One day, I sat in the longhouse, trying to weave, whilst Ratohnhaké:ton was reading some book. I honestly didn't care what book it was or how he had gotten it in the first place. I was focused on my weaving. When Ziio walked in, he suspiciously threw it, making me believe that he wasn't supposed to be reading it in the first place.

He greeted his mother. She said something that sounded of suspicion, and he began to say what I believe what was an excuse when Kanen'tó**:**kon poked his head in and called to Ratohnhaké:ton. He began to inch to the door before Ziio gave him what seemed like a warning based on the finger waggling.

When he left, she sauntered up towards me. "How are you doing, Charlotte?"

Somehow, I don't know how, I had created a _huge _knot. I sighed. "You know, I'm beginning to think that I'll never get the hang of this."

She laughed. "It took me a while too. It just takes practice," she said as she sat next to me. She took the threads and easily unraveled them. She began to slowly-correctly- weave them into the loom. "See? It's not too hard."

"My fingers. It's like they cannot move with grace! You should have seen me play the piano! And Aggie, oh she'd—" I stopped myself, the pain of losing my family still fresh. Without warning, the tears began to fall.

Ziio patted my head. "It's alright. Shhhh," she cooed as she stroked my hair sympathetically.

The tears stopped eventually, and Ziio continued to teach me diligently. It was about forty-five minutes before it happened.

Men came, about fifty, dressed in uniforms I did not recognize. They brought torches. Torches that they began to throw into the longhouses.

Ziio turned to me, panic obvious in her eyes. "Charlotte! You must hide! Go!" She shoved me out of the long house. I ran behind house after house until I came to one that was not yet burning. I hid behind it, praying that nothing would happen.

It wasn't long before an elder man found me, pulling me away from the home and bringing me to safety. The men had left, but they did not leave peacefully. The whole village was ablaze, even the house that I believed was safe. I watched in horror as men, women, and children burned alive. I could hear their screams. But one scream sounded more… familiar. And it screamed, "ISTA!"

Ratohnhaké:ton was dragged, kicking and screaming, to where the children were. Where I was. The man whom had had him threw him down to sit next to me. He was crying, tears clearing paths through the soot on his face.

I placed a gentle hand on his forearm. "Ratohnhaké:ton?"

He turned his head to me. His tears, the devastated expression on his face made my heart fall. "Mother… she… she's gone…" he said. His sobs grew harder then.

Out of pure instinct, I drew him closer to me. I don't know why I hugged him, maybe because he was the same age as Aggie-five- and I felt as though I had to. Whatever the reason, I allowed him to sob into my dress, which was so dirty from a month of wear that I really didn't care anyhow. He bunched the fabric in his fist as I gingerly stroked his hair. "Shhh… it's going to be alright. I'm here." I don't know why I said that last part, but from then on it felt as though I was his protector. And we grew closer and closer as the years flew by.

**Nine Years Later **

I was nineteen, he was fourteen. Though he was already taller than I, I still felt like a protector to him. However, I began to think my role of protector was hardly even needed anymore. The boy was _deadly _with a bow. So, I began to call him more of my closest friend, though I knew he didn't feel the same way. Kanen'tó:kon was Ratohnhaké:ton's best friend, and I respected that. The only reason I felt closest to Ratohnhaké:ton was because all of the other girls were infatuated with becoming proper women. Learning how to weave and wash clothes. I wasn't one of them, I wasn't Mohawk, so I had no need to learn that kind of stuff. Instead, I busied myself with exploring the wilderness. Ratohnhaké:ton had taught me how to climb when I was sixteen. At nineteen, I was pretty darn good at it. So, I spent most of my days either with Ratohnhaké:ton and Kanen'tó:kon, or I climbed around the forest. It was my main goal to be able to hop from limb to limb soundlessly, so that I could sneak up on even a rabbit. I was almost there.

"Charlotte!" Ratohnhaké:ton called from below. I swung myself down from my perch on a tree.

"Mhmm?" I murmured.

He gestured to Kanen'tó:kon. "I'm going to teach him how to hunt," he said almost triumphantly. "Wanna watch?"

"Oh, this should be good. Yeah, sure. I'll watch!"

Ratohnhaké:ton laughed lightly, murmuring something to Kanen'tó:kon in their language, patting his friend's belly while he was at it. Kanen'tó:kon frowned, retorting with a sly remark. Ratohnhaké:ton laughed, gesturing for us to follow as he sauntered to the valley.

He and Kanen'tó:kon snared rabbit and shot deer with their bows before Ratohnhaké:ton sent Kanen'tó:kon on his own.

I stayed in a tree as Ratohnhaké:ton hunted. My leg hung lazily over the edge as I waited, careful not to make any noise as to startle the animals in which Ratohnhaké:ton was hunting. Every once in a while, I'd watch him use his bow. I marveled at his accuracy. I was okay with a bow. Ratohnhaké:ton had actually taught me a thing or two.

It wasn't long before he showed up under my tree, gazing up at me. "I'm done," he stated.

I nodded, jumping down from my spot on the branch. I followed Ratohnhaké:ton to where I assumed they had set up a meeting spot. Unfortunately, Kanen'tó:kon wasn't there.

"Kanen'tó:kon?" Ratohnhaké:ton called.

Suddenly, Kanen'tó:kon came running towards us, shoving past Ratohnhaké:ton who muttered something under his breath.

"Wonder what he's running from…" I murmured.

And then I knew. A bear. A goddamn bear. It charged at us. Ratohnhaké:ton stood in front of me, taking the full force of the bear's attack. Thankfully, he managed to push the bear away. "Let's go!" he yelled, grabbing my wrist and running to the village.

Kanen'tó:kon met us at the entrance. They-again- shared a conversation in their native language.

Ratohnhaké:ton spared me a glance. "I'm going to see the Clan Mother," he explained.

"Okay," I said, off to busy myself with something.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed! You'll get to know Charlotte better in the upcoming chapters! I really hope you like her as she is probably my favorite character as of now :) Not saying I don't love Amirah and Melina... but you know XD **

**Again, any historical mishaps (Like the one anon caught) please call me out on it!  
**


	5. A Strange Old Man

**Hello all! Happy Thanksgiving! Hope you all have a good holiday :)**

**Daisygirl95: Thank you :) The first time i played it... oh god the feels. I will not lie. I cried. XD  
**

**Cereza101: I'm glad you think that way :) Thanks for that!  
**

**rtek: Why thank you :D  
**

* * *

**Chapter Five- A Strange Old Man**

I had never been one for traveling. Not since my last "incident" with it so to speak. However, when the Clan Mother came up to me, explaining to me what Ratohnhaké:ton had gone through. She said, in her best English, "That boy needs someone to hold him down. You are the only one who knows what the city is like. No others can leave this place, so you must go." Mysteriously, she placed a finger on my forehead. "Stay with him, girl. Should you venture away for selfish reasons, ill fortune will become of you." A cryptic warning if I've ever heard one. What the hell was that all about?

Pushing my worries of the warning aside, I did as the Clan Mother said. I found Ratohnhaké:ton not far away from the village. It seemed as though I had caught up to him right on time.

"Ratohnhaké:ton!" I yelled as I inched closer to him.

He turned with wide eyes. "Charlotte? What are you doing?"

I jogged up to his side and we soon began to walk again. "The Clan Mother said I had to go with you." I shrugged. "I didn't want to disobey."

"Go with me? Why?"

"If I knew, I'd definitely tell you. But, she said I had to 'hold you down'." I kicked a rock. "What does that mean?!"

"If Clan Mother says so, I guess you must do as she asks, part of the tribe or not," Ratohnhaké:ton explained.

"Yes, that much I understand," I muttered. "But why _me? _Why not Kanen'tó:kon? Or someone else, stronger, and better suited for whatever it is I have to do. I don't even know what _that _is!" I exclaimed, running a nervous hand through my wavy, red hair. I unconsciously fiddled with my deerskin clothing.

"Clan Mother must know something that we don't. What else did she say to you?"

"I am to stay with you. If I am to leave your side for selfish reasons, ill fortune will become of me." I kicked another, larger rock. "Gah! What is that supposed to mean?!"

"Maybe you're to help me."

"With _what?!"_

"I don't know…"

I huffed. I continued to ask myself the same question, over and over. _'Why me?' _I wasn't strong. Ratohnhaké:ton and I didn't have a sort of special relationship. Sure to me he was closest, but Kanen'tó:kon was closest to _him. _I wasn't anything special. Okay, so I could climb. _Huzzah. _The only asset I could think of was that I knew the way of life of the city. Even that wasn't substantial.

After a while of walking and climbing, I began to grow impatient. "Where are we even going?"

Ratohnhaké:ton leant down and drew something in the dirt with a stick. It was a symbol that slightly resembled and A. But, somehow, I felt as if I'd seen it before. Perhaps when I was younger I had seen it in a spare glance.

"I am to seek this sign. A man is said to teach me."

"Teach you what?"

"I don't know."

I sighed. "Geeze. I guess we don't know much!"

Ratohnhaké:ton shook his head. "No, we don't. But I have to do this."

"Why though?"

"Why do you ask so many questions?" he grumbled.

"Sorry," I muttered.

We were on a seemingly forgotten path when the unmistakable thrumming of hoof beats came our way. "Out of the way!" a man called. We did as told, scampering off to the side of the road. Three men on horseback galloped by. Two seemed to be chasing a black, elder man.

"Huh," I said. "Wonder what all that was about?"

Ratohnhaké:ton stared, bewildered, at the vacant path. "No idea," he muttered.

We soon came to a bridge, where two men worked on a cart filled with logs. "Hello!" one called. "Hello!" echoed the other. Irish by the sound of it.

"You must be one of them native fellas!" the man with red hair said after taking a quick glance at Ratohnhaké:ton. "From the uh…what's it called… Iroquois tribe? Aye. You from that?"

The other, more plump man scoffed. "Course not, Terry! Iroquois ain't a tribe!"

Terry turned to the man. "Is so!"

"Is not! The Iroquois is a confederation!"

Terry seemed utterly puzzled. "Confeda-what now?" I blinked. _'Confederation, Terry! It is a real word!'_

"Confederation, ya tony! It's a group. An alliance. Lotsa different kinds of people all united."

"Right. Like I said. A _tribe."_

"Listen ya totty-headed twiddle poop!" the other man yelled.

Ratohnhaké:ton and I shared a puzzled glance. "Totty-headed twiddle poop?" I mouthed. He shrugged.

The man continued his rant. "There's a difference between tribe and confederation, and it's not my fault your skull's too thick to make sense of it!"

"Who you calling 'twiddle-poop', you crump-backed scab!" Terry screamed. With that, they began to throw punches.

Ratohnhaké:ton and I shared a glance. "I think it's time we go," he muttered. I nodded eagerly in agreement.

We arrived at a large home. "Here," Ratohnhaké:ton said.

"How do you know this is it?" I inquired.

"I just do," he murmured. He strode past me, to the door. _'Alright. Fine,' _I thought bitterly.

I leaned against the wall of the home as he knocked on the door. When no one answered, he knocked again. The door swung open, then. The same man we saw being chased answered. "What?" he said.

"Um… I… I was told you could train me," Ratohnhaké:ton stuttered.

"No." With that, the man shut the door. Ratohnhaké:ton knocked again. "Go away!" came the hoarse reply.

"I'm not leaving!" Ratohnhaké:ton cried. He began to look around. He shrugged when he locked eyes with me.

"So?" I inquired.

"I'm not leaving," he restated.

I laughed under my breath. "I understood that much! I mean, what are we going to do next?" I held my hand out. "It's raining. Unless you want to get sick, I suggest we find shelter." To the stables he went. _'Damn. Well, Charlotte, looks like you're sleeping with a horse tonight!'_

He rolled out the mat that, apparently, the Clan Mother had given him. He lay down on it and shut his eyes. I sighed. No comfy mat for me. I resorted to curling up in a pile of hay. Frequently throughout the night, I awoke to a horse's muzzle as it nibbled on the hay that was my bed.

I arose when Ratohnhaké:ton did, following him sleepily as he pounded, yet again, on the man's door. With no answer, he went ahead to the back door.

"Please. All I ask is a moment of your time," he pleaded.

Above, a window open, and the man poked his head out. "I apologize if I've been unclear- or otherwise confused you with my words. It was never my intention to mislead. So let me try to clarify. _Get the hell off my land!" _With that, he angrily slammed the window shut.

I sighed. "You're still not giving up, are you?" I asked.

Ratohnhaké:ton's focus was somewhere else. "No," he murmured. He then screamed, "I'M COMING UP!"

As he began to ascend the wall of the house, I said to myself, "Goodness, Charlotte. What _have_ you gotten into?"

I watched from below as the- undeniably funny- chaos unfurled. Once on the veranda, Ratohnhaké:ton vigorously jiggled the doorknob. "Just hear me out!" he yelled "What are you so afraid of?!"

Without warning, the man yanked open the door. "Afraid? You think I'm _afraid _of anything, least of all, a self-important little scab like you?!" He hooked his can under Ratohnhaké:ton's feet, hurling him to his back. He held his cane against Ratohnhaké:ton's throat. I fought the urge to climb up there myself, but decided against it, as this was Ratohnhaké:ton's quest, not mine.

"Oh, you might dream of being a hero," the man scolded. "Of riding to rescues, of saving the world- but stay this course, and the only thing you're gonna be is _dead." _He stormed back into his home. "The world's moved on boy, best you do too."

"_I will not leave! Do you hear me?!" _Ratohnhaké:ton screamed. "I'm never leaving." He jumped down from the veranda, muttering words of "You just wait old man" as he trudged back to the stables.

"Well… _that _was certainly interesting," I said as we entered our new bedroom.

"Oh be quiet," he growled, laying down on his mat. I laughed and went back to my pile of hay.

That night, men came. Ratohnhaké:ton shot up, ultimately waking me up as well. "Stay here," he ordered as he left to check it out.

"Like hell," I muttered, following him out.

"Who are you?" he asked two men.

The men whirled around. "No one you need concern yourself with, little breeches," one stated. When he noticed me, a lecherous smile played on his features. I scowled.

"Best cut 'fore somethin' bad happens," the other said. Both advanced towards us.

Ratohnhaké:ton stood his ground. "No," he growled.

The men got into a fighting stance. "Can't say we didn't warn ya!"

This would be fun. Ratohnhaké:ton had no trouble taking them out, but I was left to scamper and dodge anytime one would come near me. More came, more scampering. Eventually, I developed a strategy. Dodge, trip, dodge, trip, Ratohnhaké:ton kills.

When the last man was down, Ratohnhaké:ton leant down. "Why are you here? What do you want?"

The man underneath smirked. "Best ask the bossman."

Neither of us received a warning when a man clubbed Ratohnhaké:ton's face. I cried out as he did.

"You workin' for the old man, then? That it?" the man said, standing over Ratohnhaké:ton. I stood, my brain scrambling for something to do. I didn't have a weapon, I couldn't just leave Ratohnhaké:ton here and run, I could- I didn't have to think anymore. The old man in the home was killing the lackeys one by one, completely silent. I marveled at his skill. When he killed the "bossman" I smiled broadly as he helped Ratohnhaké:ton up.

"Thank you," Ratohnhaké:ton said.

"Clean this up," the man barked. He walked away, but turned one last time. "Then, I suppose we should talk…"

I helped Ratohnhaké:ton dispose of the body. When we were done, I caught his wrist. "Let me see," I stated.

"See what?"

"Your face."

"Oh." He made no protest as I took his chin in my hand and turned his head to examine his cheek. He was fine.

I braced myself for what came next as we neared the old man's home.

* * *

**Hope you liked :) **


	6. Training

**Helloooo! _Please note: For some reason, Assassin's Creed wiki has lied to me :( His name is spelt Ratohnhake:ton, not Ratonhnhake:ton, so I will be making those_ changes.**

**Kayce Skywalker: Thank you! And yes, the game is AMAZING  
**

**Daisygirl95: thanks :)  
**

**Birdy Main: The other villagers didn't really like Charlotte, so she really only talked to Ziio and Ratohnhake:ton who spoke to her in English, so she was never really introduced to the language properly :) But I understand where you're coming from and thank you! Should i stress that more? Do you think it would be a good idea to add it it? And thank you very much!  
**

**XxGamer-ChickxX- Ahhh a Birds of a Feather girl! :D Hello love! I'm very glad to know that you like my writing :D Makes me feel special! Assassin's Creed 3 is AWESOME!  
**

**rtek: Here you are!  
**

* * *

**Chapter Six- Training**

The old man's home wasn't as I had imagined it to be. It was more run down than I thought a building could get before collapsing. In fact, when Ratohnhaké:ton sat down in a chair, it completely fell apart underneath him. As he stumbled to get up and regain his bearings, I fought the sudden urge to laugh.

"Sorry," he said.

"Not you fault," the man assured "This whole place is ready to come down. Goddamn miracle it hasn't already. Anyway, who are you?"

"My name is Ratohnhaké:ton." Meanwhile, I hung low in the far corner, careful to keep at a distance.

"Right. Well, I'm not even going to try and pronounce that. Now tell me why you're here." The man waved him off.

Ratohnhaké:ton brought out a piece of paper, pointing to the symbol that looked like an "A". "I was told to seek this symbol."

"Do you even know what that symbol represents? Or what it is you're asking for?"

Ratohnhaké:ton answered simply. "No."

The man leaned forward in his chair. "And yet here you are."

Ratohnhaké:ton seemed almost flustered. "The spirit said that- that I've—"

The man held up a silencing hand. "These 'spirits' of yours have been harassing the Assassins for centuries. Ever since Ezio uncorked the bottle… Ah-but you don't even know what an Assassin is, do you?" That little tiny voice in the back of my head whispered, _'You do, Charlotte.' _Ratohnhaké:ton shifted his stance.

The man leaned back. "Well best settle in, then. I've got a story to tell and it's gonna take a while to get it all out…" He looked at me. "And you are?"

I stepped forward. "Charlotte Williams, sir."

"British?"

"Yes, sir."

"I won't even ask why you're wearing Indian clothing. But, why are you with him?"

"The tribe's Clan Mother said I had to. And, basically, he's my only friend in this world," I explained.

"You do realize that you cannot be an Assassin like him?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

He seemed to look me over. "Hmm… lanky… graceful… I may have use for you yet, Charlotte. Sit. Listen in."

A while was an understatement. It took two full hours for the man to completely tell the story. And boy, it was interesting. In a basic sense, Assassin's have been fighting the Templars for hundreds of years. Some of the more sketchy details of which I didn't quite understand were about people that came before, pieces of Eden, and these 'spirits'.

"And so this is why the Assassins have dedicated themselves to the pursuit of the Templars. Because if they succeed- your spirit's visions will become reality," the man finished.

Ratohnhaké:ton stood from his chair. "Then I will stop them."

"Oh I have no doubt you'll try." The mysterious man stood. "Come on. I've something to show you two."

We followed him through his house. "Careful," he warned "wasn't a joke when I said this place is falling apart."

Ratohnhaké:ton spoke. "Why don't you repair it?"

The other man sighed. "What's the point? Besides I don't have materials for the job."

"So buy them."

Old man chuckled. "Look at me! You think I can just march into some store, purse full of pounds, and go shopping?"

"Yes. Why not?"

"So naïve…" the old man sighed. Though Ratohnhaké:ton didn't, I knew why. He was black, looked down upon by society. I never understood that.

The man brought us to a wall. Yes, a wall. I wondered why until he pulled a candelabra. The wall underneath the staircase literally opened. "This way," he said as he led us down the stairs. I marveled at the pure innovation of this structure. When we got to the bottom of the stairs, we arrived in what seemed like a sort of training room. A round dirt pen was placed in the center. In it were some of the awesomest robes I've ever seen. Yes. I am fully aware that awesomest is not a word. Like me, Ratohnhaké:ton was immediately drawn towards them. Though I did not go up and touch them.

"Ratohnhaké:ton!" I whispered in a harsh warning. Needless to say, he wasn't listening to me in the slightest.

When he reached down to open a box that lay beneath the robes, the man hit his hand away with his cane. Ratohnhaké:ton stiffened. "Don't think you can just come in here, throw those on and call yourself an Assassin," the man warned. I wished I knew his name.

"I-I did not… I would never presume—" Ratohnhaké:ton stuttered.

The man held up a calming hand. "That's alright. I know they've a certain allure." He sucked in a deep breath. Very well, I'll train you. Then we'll know if you've the right to wear those robes."

"Thank you! Uh…" Ratohnhaké:ton was implying for a name.

"Name's Achilles." _'Finally! A name!' _I thought.

Achilles led us to a boarded-up wall. "Come on, then. We've work to do." He used his cane to tell us both to lift the boards. However, Ratohnhaké:ton handled it completely on his own. I was suddenly aware of how much stronger he was compared to me.

On the wall were five paintings. Each painting had a name underneath and a title. _"Haytham, Grand Master. Charles Lee, Second in Command." _To me, those were the two that stuck out the most. Maybe it was because being the Grand Master or the Second in Command made you a big man in the group.

"What do the Templars want?" Ratohnhaké:ton asked.

"What they've always wanted: Control. They see an opportunity in the colonies. A chance for new beginnings, unfettered by the chaos of the past. This is why they back the British. Here they have a chance to illustrate the merits of their beliefs: A people in service to the principles of order and structure."

Ratohnhaké:ton looked at me pointedly before answering. "I have seen what is to come if they succeed," he said. "They have to die, don't they? All of them. Even my father."

Achilles calmly stated, "Especially your father. He's the one holding the whole thing together." Meanwhile, I was still trying to get over the fact that Haytham Kenway was Ratohnhaké:ton's father. How come I was never made aware of that?!

One month later

"Charlotte!" I heard Achilles call.

I ran from the kitchen (where I was getting an apple) to the front door where Achilles awaited me. "Yes?" I said, mouth full of apple.

Achilles and Ratohnhaké:ton laughed. "Today you are to learn to climb and run with him."

I smiled. Ever since my arrival, I'd had wondered what Achilles' use for me would be. "So… are you going to explain to me my 'use'?"

"Silent, stealthy, and deadly. That is your main goal. You cannot fight like him, but he is not as agile as you. You are to be the silent killer."

"I will have to get used to killing. But for the greater good I _will_ be able to do it."

Achilles smiled. "Good."

I fell more times than I'd like to admit. I was significantly good at climbing, I really was, but Achilles had me keep up with Ratohnhaké:ton. Something that was easier said than done.

I huffed as I landed on the ground. "How on _Earth _am I to be as fast as him?" I questioned, pointing a finger at Ratohnhaké:ton who sat perched atop the branch above me.

Achilles laughed lightly. "He will be much stronger than you and will have to carry many more weapons. That all adds together to make it more difficult to run faster. You will not need to be as strong, and will only carry a few throwing knives and a hidden blade."

I sighed. "I guess I am supposed to learn how to use throwing knives next?"

Achilles nodded. "Yes." He gestured with his cane at the trees. "Now get back to work."

Five Months Later

Achilles was right. Ratohnhaké:ton grew much stronger. But with his bulkiness came less agility. I, however, was trained each day how to dodge and use an enemy's stance against them, and my own agility to my advantage. My reflexes were fine-tuned and I was able to run much faster. Throwing knives were a chore, though. I could throw one well enough, but hitting the mark exactly was a problem. Something I was told that I had to work on.

I soon began to experiment with my moves. I used more flips and twists to better get advantage of my enemy, who was often portrayed by Ratohnhaké:ton. With our teacher unable to test our skills by fighting us himself, he often had Ratohnhaké:ton and I go to blows in the training ring in the hidden room. Though, with our different styles of fighting, it was hard to properly take advantage of each other. Instead, our brawls often ended in a draw. I was honestly excited to see how we were to train next, for we had only just begun.

Once I was sent to Boston for new clothing, as the deerskin dress I was in was a little bit more revealing than any of us would have liked. An overwhelming feeling of nostalgia overcame me once there. Everything was so _familiar. _Every once and a while a small memory of my childhood came to my mind. Each time I was painfully reminded of what my father did just nine years before.

I returned with a slim, blue dress with red trimming and a pair of men's trousers. I slit the dress's sides from my hip down to ease running, hence the trousers to wear underneath. When Achilles had asked me about the dress, I said it was because I didn't want to be _too _obvious that I was a fighter. I wanted to take my enemy by surprise. And who would guess a woman in a dress?

One day, when Ratohnhaké:ton and I went outside in search of Achilles, we found him sitting on a carriage. "Good morning," he greeted us.

I bowed my head slightly and Ratohnhaké:ton said, "To you as well." On further investigation of the carriage and horses, he added, "You taking a trip?"

"I've decided to do something about the house. And you two are going to help me. Get in," he said as he tapped the carriage door with his cane. We both eagerly did as told, glad to be out of the frigid, winter air.

* * *

**Do you guys like Charlotte so far? I really tried not to make her a badass chick who can do everything that Connor can, but still not make her a damsel in distress. I hope it worked :)**


	7. Boston

**Hello all!  
**

**techflow96: Thanks very much :D  
**

**Daisygirl95: I'm glad you like her!  
**

**Birdymain: I'll have to make those changes, thank you:)  
**

**Mathlover15: Thank you very much ^_^  
**

**X: haha okay :) Sorry for any confusion!  
**

**rtek: I'm glad you think so! and that's okay, laziness is always permitted :P  
**

**PotterxBreifsxUchihaxKiryuu: Anime ftw! Haha XD But anyway I'm glad you like her!  
**

**DeathDragon130: Thank you and here you are :)  
**

**Kayce Skywalker: I'm glad you love her :D Really means a lot to me! It's really cool that your mom's a history teacher! I've _always _loved American History, especially the Revolution so you can imagine my excitement when I realized what time this game was in! I know how you feel, except that i grew up with Dr. Seuss since my mom's a hair dresser and my dad's a printer XD But it's so cool how you grew up with those stories! You've got a head start in school ;) Omg, when his mom died i was at my friends' house playing it. We all (they're twins ^_^) started sobbing XD  
**

* * *

**Chapter Seven- Boston**

We arrived in Boston soon enough. It hadn't changed much since the last time I was there. I climbed out of the carriage quietly as Ratohnhaké:ton hopped out behind me. He stared wondrously at the city. I laughed lightly as he watched a lady go by, and wondered idly if he was watching because of what she was wearing, or if she was in fact a _lady. _

Achilles smacked him lightly with his cane. "Don't stare," he whispered harshly.

Ratohnhaké:ton bowed his head. "Sorry," he murmured. I laughed. Achilles began to walk the streets. Ratohnhaké:ton and I in tow.

Ratohnhaké:ton was plainly in awe of the city. "This place is incredible! The people. The sounds and smells. I could walk these streets for days and know not even half its wonders," he said.

Again, I laughed, saying, "You really haven't seen much yet."

"I thought the same as you upon a time. These days, I much prefer the quiet of the countryside," Achilles said. I grunted in agreement.

"But there is so much _life _here. So many opportunities."

"For a few, my boy. For a few." I didn't even bother to try and comprehend what that meant. Best leave Achilles alone.

We stopped soon enough. "There's a store close to here," Achilles said as he gave Ratohnhaké:ton a piece of paper. "You're to buy the items on this list. Tell them where the carriage is and they'll see that it's loaded. Understood?"

"Yes," Ratohnhaké:ton muttered.

"Good. You're also going to need a new name." My interest peaked. _A new name, huh?_ "Your skin is fair enough that you might pass for one with Spanish or Italian blood," Achilles continued. "Better to bethought a Spaniard than a Native. And both are better still than I."

"That is not true," Ratohnhaké:ton replied quickly. A frown formed on my face. Achilles was almost like a father to me. And I'd only known him for six months. The thought of _anyone _thinking lowly of him angered me.

"What's _true _and what _is _aren't always the same," Achilles explained.

"What would you call me, then?"

"Connor. Yes. That will be your name."

I nodded. "I like it," I said quietly.

Achilles smiled at me. He pushed Ra- I mean, Connor with his cane. "Alright, then. Off you go." He gestured after him, looking me straight in the eyes. "_I'm going," _I thought.

I followed… Connor through the streets. "Connor," I tested the name on my tongue. "I like it. It suits you."

Connor regarded me quietly. "I guess."

"What, you don't like it?"

"No, that's not it. It's just… different I suppose."

"Well, Achilles was right with what he said about Natives. They aren't looked upon highly. People here won't like you as much as we do."

"Did your father dislike Natives too?"

I was truly taken aback. Why did he have to bring up my father? My mind shot back. Father thought that the Natives were barbaric, savages even. "Yes," I murmured quietly.

Connor grunted, continuing to walk silently. I sighed. He was upset. But why? It's not like my father meant anything to him. Even then, memories of my father brought me emotional pain. He killed my mother. He tried to kill me. Did he even know that I was alive? Was he alive? Was _Aggie _alive? My mind reeled. I had to find my sister.

I branched away from Connor. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"I'm going to look for my sister," I said with much finality.

"Your sister? Do you even know if she's _alive?" _

Realization shot through me. I didn't know. "I have to know, Ra…Connor. She's my little sister."

"I'll go with you," he muttered, beginning to walk towards me.

I shook my head. "No, you do what Achilles wanted. I won't be long. I'll meet you later."

"Where?"

"I'll find you," I assured. With that, I was off. I formulated a plan in my mind to ask every merchant, vendor, and guard about my sister. And so I did.

"Excuse me, sir," I said to a clothing merchant.

He looked up from his mending to meet my eyes. "How may I help a fine lass like ye'self?" _"Irish,"_ I classified.

"I'm looking for my sister, Agatha Williams. Do you know of her?"

The man stroked his graying beard. "I might 'ave. If you buy something, I tell ya," he said slyly.

I sighed. "Fine." I quickly gazed over his wares. My eyes landed on a green ribbon. "Give me that ribbon," I said, nodding towards it.

"One pound ain't gonna get ya much infamation," he muttered as he handed me the ribbon.

I took out the sole money I had. "It's all the money I have."

"I'll let ya get away with more if you join me tonight," he cooed. I blanched.

"No way in hell, old man," I growled, slamming the money in front of him, snatching the ribbon from his hand and storming away.

I pulled my hair over my left shoulder and tied my wavy red hair like that. I had to say, the ribbon went well with my hair and my eyes. A good choice. It took me a moment that I had just gotten the ribbon for nothing, for I hadn't gotten any information out of the man. I huffed. Well, he was a perverse man anyway. I searched the streets for about an hour more. No sign of my sister.

I found three British soldiers (or British followers, I didn't care to know which) and immediately sauntered up to them. "Excuse me, gentlemen," I said.

They turned. "What can we do for you, miss?" The one in the middle asked. Though his buddy was looking at me creepily.

"I'm looking for my sister," I explained. "Her name is Agatha Williams."

The creepy one smirked. "Maybe I have. But you'd have to let me have my way with you first," he muttered as he placed a hand on my thigh.

My eyes narrowed. "Fat chance," I growled as I stomped hard on his foot. He keeled over.

Bad idea. About five soldiers, including the other two who were with the creep, saw me. One yelled, "Get her!"

"Damn," I growled as I dashed away. _"What rotten luck you have, Charlotte," _I thought to myself. I couldn't help but let my mind wander to the Clan Mother. What if she had placed a curse on me?! _"No, Charlotte, not possible… besides, you have more pressing matters on your hands," _I told myself.

My first instinct was to find a tree to climb up. But there were none of those around, so I just ran. I twirled around people, flung myself over stands, and careened around corners. I took light notice of the Colonists as they were attacked by men in red coats, but I could still hear the screams of men to "Follow her!". I ran faster, then smirking to myself as I noticed their screams diminishing.

To my surprise, as I rounded a corner, I ran face-first into Connor. We both fell backwards. The worried look he gave me told me that he too was being chased. I nodded in understanding at his wordless plea to run. We shot up, and sprinted side-by-side. I noticed my breathing getting harder, and his as well, but we didn't stop.

When our followers' yells silenced, we flew into an alleyway, leaning against a wall to catch our breath. "We need—" he panted "to find… Achilles." I nodded.

We set off into the streets again, careful to avoid any contact with soldiers. Connor told me of his situation. His was framed for a murder. Well… he did kill a man, but it was for a just cause.

"Over here!" we heard a whisper.

We slowed. I noticed a man come towards us, pointing to us. "You're Achilles' boy. Connor, was it?" he nodded to me. "And you're Charlotte?" I nodded. "I saw what happened at the Town House," he continued. "A fine mess, that."

Connor and I shared a glance before he asked, "Who are you?"

"Samuel Adams, at your service," the man explained, holding out a hand for Connor to shake. Who, obviously, didn't understand what to do. Samuel pulled his hand back. I laughed. "Achilles asked me to get you out of Boston," he said.

"Explain," Connor barked.

"The whole city's looking for you…" Samuel gestured to a man at a tree.

"Oye! Oye!" he called. "A criminal stalks the streets- wanted in connection with the massacre at the Town House! Citizens are advised to call the guards if they see him! Ten pounds to whoever brings this madman to justice!"

Connor fidgeted nervously on his feet. "What am I supposed to do?"

Samuel set off to the man, shoving him out of the way. He pointed to a poster on the tree. "You can take down these posters for a start. Return to me once you've returned the others."

Connor nodded, walking off to do exactly that. Before I could follow, Samuel placed a gentle hand on my shoulder to stop me. "Best you don't get mixed up in this, Charlotte. Wouldn't want a pretty little lady like yourself to get hurt."

I huffed. "I can take care of myself," I growled.

Samuel laughed, patting me on the head. "I've no doubt you can, miss." It was obvious he didn't believe me. _"Humph, your loss Sam," _I thought bitterly.

I stood, rigid next to Samuel as we waited for Connor's return. Samuel didn't seem nervous, but I sure was. Connor was my closest friend, the thought of him getting hurt pained me greatly. Samuel brought me to an open market where we were greeted by a man. "Hello, Samuel," he greeted. "Who's this?" he asked once his eyes landed on me.

"This is Charlotte. Charlotte, this is Cyrus," Samuel introduced us.

"Nice to meet you, sir," I said respectfully.

"You as well, miss." Cyrus bowed his head.

I stood awkwardly next to Samuel as we waited for Connor. Samuel conveyed to Cyrus Connor's predicament, and I couldn't believe how nonchalant he sounded about the whole thing. Connor couldn't have arrived soon enough.

"Ah, Connor, there you are. I'd like you to meet Cyrus," Samuel said.

Cyrus seemed nervous as Connor walked to stand next to me. "Is it… Is he the killer?" Connor nodded to Cyrus in an unfriendly way. I grasped his wrist hard to keep him from attacking Cyrus.

"Peace. Cyrus is on our side. Or rather… for the right price, he will be," Samuel assured.

Nearby, a man held up a poster of Connor to a group of people asking if they'd seen him. Connor held a hand in front of his face, ducking closer to me as if to hide behind me. Samuel grasped his wrist. "Watch and learn." He handed coins to Cyrus.

Cyrus stood in the middle of the market. "Oye! Oye! Word has reached us that the man responsible for today's shooting may have been in disguise! A wig and makeup tin were found near the scene of the crime. Witnesses describe a middle aged gentleman of pale complexion fleeing towards the wharves, rifle in arm." I watched as the same man who was holding the poster scrutinize its very existence. Cyrus returned to Samuel's side.

"Thank you kindly, Cyrus," Samuel said.

"Pleasure."

* * *

Hope you liked :D


	8. Samuel Adams

**Hello all! If my writing lacks in anyway, i apologize. I'm sick today so I'm all scatterbrained . Hopefully my writing is all right!  
**

**DeathDragon130- Here you are :)  
**

**Guest: Love them both :) Here you go ^_^  
**

**Ninja Star Light: I'm glad you like her! Connor is most definitely of the boss category XD  
**

**Mathlover15: I was just thinking that, actually! In such a short time things have changed so drastically!  
**

**techflow: omg thank you so much!  
**

**Kayce Skywalker: Thank you lots!  
**

**rtek: Here you go!  
**

* * *

**Chapter Eight- Samuel Adams**

Samuel was going to bring us to the printer. I thought it was very useful, actually. Though I hoped I never had to go to a printer to have wanted posters of my face stopped in production. Unfortunately, there was no way of getting there without causing trouble with the guards.

"Dammit! We're too late. They've set up a checkpoint. Come on. This way," Samuel said.

"I can go by rooftop and meet you two there?" Connor suggested.

I was about to protest, but Samuel beat me to it. "No," he intervened. "Better you learn about the tunnels now."

"Tunnels?" Connor and I asked simultaneously. We shared an amused glance.

"The Masons have a whole network of them under the city. They're quite useful when speed and secrecy are required," Samuel explained.

"Where are they?" I asked.

Samuel smiled. "Follow me." And so we did, around guards and through the alleyways, Samuel showed us to the ominous tunnels.

"Here we are then," he said when we reached a sort of boarded up pathway. "I'll see you inside."

Connor lifted the boards away. I leaned forward to look into the tunnels. I shivered. "Creepy," I muttered.

"That may be, but they are definitely of great advantage," Samuel explained.

"What if we get lost?" I asked.

"Then we'll just have to find a way out," Connor stated plainly.

I narrowed my eyes. "The amount of reassurance you offer is staggering. Please, calm yourself," I growled. Samuel laughed.

Connor ignored me, a common occurrence when we quarreled on such petty circumstance. "Ready?" he asked no one in particular.

Samuel led the way, inching cautiously into the hole. Connor waved me in after, following close behind. When he closed the "door" the complete blackness startled me and I reeled back. Straight into Connor, actually, who staggered backward as he tried to steady us both. I muttered apologies at his angered huff.

"Hold on," Samuel said. Light filtered throughout the vast space as he lit a lantern. He handed it to Connor.

"Well, at least we can see," I murmured, "but it's still creepy."

"You'll get used to it, Charlotte. Besides, Connor and I are right here," Samuel assured. I offered a warm smile.

Samuel let Connor lead the way, though probably not the best idea for a first-time traveler, but I trusted him not to get us _too _lost. "I wonder why they built these tunnels…" he muttered. I shrugged.

After we stumbled around a bit in the dark, Samuel said, "Uuuhh…Much as it pains me to say it, we must follow the rats- as they often move in the direction of an exit."

I huffed. "Brilliant. We let the rodents decide our fate." Samuel laughed.

Sooner than later, we arrived at a sort of room. We moved to the closest door. "Well, well!" Samuel exclaimed. "You were right. I apologize for ever doubting. No wonder Achilles has taken such an interest in you." He moved to open the door. Nothing happened. "Arse!" he growled. He turned toward Connor. "I don't suppose lock-picking is part of your repertoire?"

Connor said nothing as he handed Samuel the lantern, a smirk playing at his lips. He skillfully broke the lock.

OOOOooooOOOOoooo

Two men were guarding the entrance to the printer's shop. "What are we going to do about those two ninnies?" I asked.

"Take them out," Connor replied easily.

"Fine then, let's put use to what Achilles has taught us."

It was an easy fight. Connor pulled one man's musket out of his hands and stabbed him with it (ouch) and I simply moved underneath it to behind the man, and snapped his neck. No matter how bad I felt about killing people, I knew it was for the right cause.

"You ask a great deal of me, Sam," the printer said.

"I know… but I wouldn't be here if it wasn't important. If it wasn't vital," Samuel explained.

"Fine. Just this once, though. In the future, such things will come at a price. Resetting the type is neither quick not easy. To say nothing of the cost should I be discovered."

"I shall not forget this kindness."

"Nor I."

Connor and I shared a look. The kind of look that said "we should do this later". Should it come to the point of which we had to decrease our notoriety, bribing the printer might be of great use.

"His work will see your last little bit of notoriety erased," Sam explained to Connor. "Come- I show you how to leave now that order's been restored." He led us outside. "So now you've had a chance to see how it all works. Untoward actions will upset the citizens and inevitably lead to the guards being called. Depending on the severity of your transgression, they may simply search a bit before giving up and returning to their posts. But should you offend them severely of repeatedly- they'll become much more aggressive in their pursuits. I've shown you three ways to turn the tide. Remove wanted posters, bribe the town criers, or visit a printer to create your own propaganda."

"This feels wrong," Connor said. "Why not speak to someone and explain my innocence?"

"You can't be serious?"

"We counter one lie with another. Words on paper instantly taken as truth. And all of it without question." We arrived at the harbor. "Here we are. Speak with the harbormaster and he'll see you home."

"Thank you for everything, Sam. I promise one day to repay the favor," Connor said.

Samuel smirked. "Oh, I'm counting on it."

Connor held out his hand. "Like this?" I smiled. He was offering Samuel a handshake. Samuel took his hand and shook it, and I beamed at the friendliness between the two.

Connor left Samuel with a nod and gestured me to follow. Samuel stopped me with a hand to the shoulder. "Take care of that boy, Charlotte," he said, smiling.

"Of course," I assured, setting off to meet Connor at the harbormaster's stand.

OOOoooOOOooo

Connor leaned against the side of the boat next to me, looking out into the vast ocean. "Did you find your sister?" he asked.

I sighed. "No, but I did find a few men that would tell me if I got in bed with them," I muttered.

Connor snapped his head to the side, meeting my eyes. "Did you?"

I smacked his arm. "Of course not! I'm a _woman, _not a means of entertainment. I wouldn't stoop that low."

He shrugged. "You seemed intent on finding her."

I turned, back against the boat and slid down until I was sitting. I pulled my knees to my chest. "I just want to make sure she's all right. I wonder if she even remembers me…"

Connor leant down beside me. "Why wouldn't she?"

"She might remember having a sister, but not _me. _She was five when I left. When I met you. Tell me, do you remember that day?"

He seemed to ponder. "Barely. But I do remember your father. You never did tell me why he was after you."

I laughed lightly. "Really? I never did?" He shook his head. "Well," I began. "Father had always had quite the temper. I guess one day, he just snapped. And mother went to protect me." I drew my knees closer, trying to hold back tears that the memories of my mother's bloodied face brought. "He went rabid. He beat my mother to death. He was sick in the head."

Connor nodded. "Then what?"

"What do you mean?"

"How did you come to find me?"

"The last thing my mother ever said to me was 'Save yourself, Charlotte'. So I ran. I ran into the forest. I was about to give up hiding from him until I ran into you."

"Do you still have that scar on your arm?"

"Y-you remember that?"

"Your father cut you, didn't he?"

I nodded. "Well, yes…"

"So do you have a scar?"

"Yes…"

He sighed, dropping the subject. "Do you ever wonder if he's still alive?"

"I try not to. But yes, every once in a while I come to wonder." I shifted, bringing my legs to sit cross-legged. "What would I do if I ever found him?"

"I'll kill him."

I couldn't help but feel a little better, even if it meant my father's death.

* * *

**Hope you liked!**


	9. Additions

**DeathDragon130: Thanks a bunch :)**

**Kayce Skywalker: lol XD Thanks!**

**Dasiygirl95: Here you are, love!**

**techflow: :3**

**Luxuride: Oh my gosh, thank you so much ;A; I'm really glad you like her! **

**Nina: Thank you!**

**Fira Jones: Ahh... thank you for that! **

**Ninja Star Light: Ye shall see :D **

**This chappy isn't really a big one in the storyline, but i hope you like it nonetheless**

* * *

**Chapter Nine- Additions**

We arrived at the homestead in mid afternoon. Connor stormed in to find Achilles. We found him sitting smugly in a chair. "Welcome back!" he said cheerfully.

"You left us in Boston!" Connor growled. I grunted in agreement.

"The training we've done here is all well and good, but experience is a better teacher by far."

"A little warning would've been nice," I muttered under my breath. Achilles sent me a pointed glare. I raised my hands in mock defense.

"What of my father?" Connor said.

"Into the wind, I'm afraid," Achilles sighed.

"We have to find him!" Connor yelled. I sighed. _"Don't get your panties in a twist," _I thought.

"And we will… _after _the house has been repaired."

"But he's out there plotting who knows what."

"Connor—" I began.

But Achilles beat me to it. "And what would you do when you found him? _If _you found him? You're a boy with a few months of training. He's a man full grown who's spent decades honing his skills." He gestured to me. "And she's not going to help you." I narrowed my eyes at the old man. "If you're going to stand a chance against the Templars, you're going to need these," he said, reaching out to the box next to him. He handed it to Connor. While Connor opened the box, I resisted the urge to look over his shoulder because of the shocked expression he wore. "Go on. Before I change my mind," Achilles said.

Connor placed the vambraces on his wrists and examined them. For a moment, I wondered why I didn't get blades, but I rested on the fact that I would not be required to do much close combat. I was taught how to throw knives, kick, and (although gruesome in ways) snap necks.

A knocking on the window caught our attention. "Hey! _Help!_" the man who was doing the banging yelled. Connor and I shared a worried glance before rushing to the door. And outside to meet with the man whose frantic calls for help still echoed throughout the building.

The man (whom I recognized as one of the two Irish men that fought over whether the Iroquois was a tribe or a confederation) ran up to us crying out, "You, Sir, please! Help! He's going to die!"

"Who?" Connor and I asked simultaneously.

The man ran. "There's no time! Please come!" We ran after him, though it was hard in the snow, and to the river. He pointed to a man who was clinging to life on a log, moving steadily downstream. "Down there! He's just passed under the bridge!"

Connor placed a hand on my shoulder before he ran after. "Stay here."

"What?!" I called. But he was out of earshot. I huffed. "I swear," I growled.

"Best we catch up!" the man said as he began to follow Connor downstream. I ran with him, careful to keep a watchful eye on Connor as he leaped from rock to branch in case he fell.

"What happened?!" I yelled to the man behind me.

"He… Fell…" he replied, out of breath already. I resisted the urge to say, "No really?!"

I marveled as Connor dove into the water, bringing the man up with him. I waited for him as he pulled the man to shore, and helped as he drug him up. Connor collapsed onto the ground, panting and soaked to the bone.

The man was nearly coughing up a lung. I leant down next to him. "Are you al right?" I asked. He waved me off, showing that he was fine.

The other man came up to Connor and said, "What this knob-end is trying to say is he's forever in your debt, sir." He lifted Connor to his feet.

"Who you callin' a knob-end?" the other murmured.

"You. Because you are one." He moved to help him up, but his friend slapped his hand away, though he forced him up anyway.

"What were you doing on those logs?" Connor asked.

"One of the dangers of lumberin'. We've got the camp set up a few rods off of here, as we're cuttin' timber. We're hoping to open a mill in the area."

"There is a good place not far from the manor on the hill where I am staying," Connor explained.

"Heh," the man with the hat said. "I like you already. We'll have a look." And with that they both set off.

I nudged Connor's arm. "You all right?"

"Fine," he muttered. "We should get back to Achilles."

OOoooOOOooo

It was a few days before the lumberjacks got completely set up in their new home. With Connor and my help, they easily brought all their supplies. I cannot count the amount of logs I carried, and how many pieces of wood were stuck in my hands. Achilles came with us one day to survey the final result.

"I'll miss the peace and quiet," he said. "But we can certainly use the wood."

Connor nodded. "The manor needs a lot of work."

I laughed. "An understatement, I'd say."

"That. And other things. Meet me at the small shack by the shoreline when you have time. There's something else you need to see."

"What is it?" Connor called to Achilles' retreating back.

"An…asset."

Connor flung his hands up in frustration. Achilles never was one to explain completely. He liked to keep one guessing. It could get quite annoying sometimes.

"The old shack by the shoreline…" I muttered. "Maybe we're going fishing!" I chirped.

"Doubtful."

"Well it was just a thought!" I huffed. "No need to be such a pessimist," I muttered under my breath, glaring at Connor as he walked away.

"I heard that!" he called back to me.

I laughed. "Good!"

It was then that we heard screaming. We shared a concerned look before running off to the cliffs were the sound was coming from, careful to stick to the road, as the snow was a nightmare to run through. Climbing up a cliff wasn't easy, but we managed it nonetheless. But I almost fell as a man was flung over said cliff with only a rope to his feet to keep him from falling to his death. "Let's see if our man can fly!" I heard someone mock.

An immediate attack was forced upon us when we reached the top. Connor brought out his weapon and we went to work. Unarmed men came at me, but each time I'd grab their wrists, twist behind their backs, and use my foot to smash their face into the ground, preferably a rock, to knock them out. By the time I had taken care of two, Connor had taken out the others.

We went to help the man dangling, both of us pulling at the rope that held his feet. "Thank you. Thank you," he cried when he reached the top.

While Connor stood to ask the man if he was all right, I moved to untie his feet, which secured in a difficult knot. "I think so," he said "didn't do much to me aside from a good scare. Blaggards."

"What did they want with you?" Connor asked.

"My purse, which was meager, and they decided they'd punish me for their trouble," he explained. Connor bent down to help me with the blasted knot. "Silly really," the man continued "my tools and equipment _were_ worth a king's share to the right man. In any case, I best get on my way. It's a long walk to the nearest inn. I thank you both for your kindness." He reached out to shake Connor's hand.

"Have you no home?" Connor asked.

"Ah, well. I was a proud resident of Boston until recently, but I'm not a supporter of his majesty and well I was forced out of my wood shop and home by Loyalists." My heart sunk in sympathy for the man.

"There are plenty around here who could use the services of a skilled craftsman, if you were looking for somewhere to settle," Connor explained.

"Is that right? I may look into that."

"It was nice to meet you, sir," I said politely as Connor and I left the cliff.

The man smiled at me. "You too, miss."

OOOoooOOOooo

We met Achilles at the shoreline, who had Connor knock on the door to a shack. "GO 'WAY!" the person inside barked.

"Unpleasant fellow, isn't he?" I murmured.

Connor, however, did not heed the man's advice, and slowly pushed the door open anyway. The man, a drunkard, did not take kindly to Connor's advances. "Said 'go 'way', boy. D'ya not speak the King's English?" he growled. Achilles and I followed Connor inside. Connor made a disgusted face, holding his hand to his nose. I tried not to show my disgust, as I was taught as a young girl that it was rude, but I caved in anyway. The foul stench was too hard to bear. The man didn't seem to mind our attitude, though, as he said, "Oh, I didn't see you there, old man." He gestured to Achilles. "I'd of set my home in order if I'd known you'd be callin'."

"The boy's name is Connor, and hers Charlotte. They're here to restore the property," Achilles explained. _"Wouldn't it have been nice to know this beforehand, Achilles?" _I thought bitterly.

The man took a swig of his drink. He gawked at Connor and I. "Restore? _Restore!" _ He stood. "Pardon my manners." He led us outside, away from the horrid stench. "She's still the fastest in the Atlantic-sure she needs some attention… minor things mostly." He pointed to a completely wrecked ship in the middle of the bay. "But with a little affection she'll fly again!"

"Who is 'she'?" Connor asked.

The man turned to him, aghast. "_Who _is _she? _Why the Aquila, boy! The Ghost of the North Seas!"

"The boat," Connor said plainly.

"B-b…a _boat?! _She's a _ship, _boy, and make no mistake about it!" The man turned to Achilles, murmuring something to him under his breath.

I moved to Connor, whispering, "Rule number one about sailors, _never _mock their ships. They'll eat you alive."

Connor nodded. "I'll remember that," he noted dully.

When Achilles was finished listening to the man's rant (something about Connor being the greenest thing on the frontier, of which I did not take lightly. An insult to my friend was like an insult to me.), he turned to us. "Connor, Charlotte, meet me back at the manor when you've finished here."

"You said it requires repairs, you able?" Connor asked the man.

"_She _does need work- a ship is a 'she', boy- and yes I can refit her but I'm lacking the proper supplies. Some. Some quality timber would help me get started." My mind flashed back to Godfrey and Terry, the two lumberjacks up a ways.

"I can see to that. How long before it-" I smacked his arm, he realized his mistake. "_She _is able to sail again?"

"Just get me the lumber, boy and I'll raise a crew." The man leant against his shack, falling down in to a heap of drunken mess.

I laughed. "He's certainly a character, isn't he?"

"A strange man, if not interesting."


	10. The Aquila

**Woah! two in one dayyyyyy**

**lol anyway! _Double digits! :D _I'm so happy for all the good that this story is getting! I thank you all for even reading let alone review/follow/favorite etc!  
**

**DeathDragon130: Well thank you!  
**

* * *

**Chapter Ten- The Aquila**

Within six months, the ship was fully repaired. Connor and I worked tirelessly to bring the Aquila to her full potential. We trained everyday as well, and I began to perfect the art of throwing knives. Connor was growing stronger and stronger with each week we trained, and I was growing more and more agile. It was nearly impossible to hear me in the trees. I knew where to put my feet each time. No longer could I be outrun by the ordinary man. Even Connor, with all his bulk, was finding it hard to keep up with me. I was becoming better and better at using my hands to disarm, and my skills to bring the enemy to their knees without using a single blade. Of course, I had a knife on me at all times, but I seldom ever used it. Connor taught me how to use a bow and arrow on the side. He said it was in case I needed it, if he couldn't defend us. I sincerely hoped I never needed to.

Not only did we train, but we learned more and more about the Templar order. While Connor was nearly obsessed with ending Charles Lee and his father, I was determined to figure out their motives. I wanted to know what made them tick.

Along with the work came my responsibility of finding my sister. Every once and a while I'd head out to Boston, claiming to go by things, but I was looking for Aggie. She would be fifteen August 5th, a date which was soon approaching. I made it a goal in life to find her. I needed to know if she was alive. But however many times I went out to Boston I'd only catch traces of her. Someone had heard the name Agatha, or vaguely remembered the last name Williams, but no real leads. No real proof that she was alive. With each day I couldn't find her, I grew more and more anxious and upset. At times I was certain she was dead, that my father had killed her that night. And it killed me. I often cried myself asleep, believing that my little sister, my little Aggie, was no longer. That I was only clinging to her ghost. I'd often dream of her, the only image I had of her. As a five year old. I'd find her either dead or dying. Each time I was too late, she died in my arms. My mother would be there, laying dead on the ground or worse, glaring at me, face bloodied. She'd demand to know why I couldn't save her, why I didn't protect my sister that fateful night. I'd awake with a start, my father's manic laughs echoing throughout my head. Sometimes Connor would come in, having heard my cries. He'd ask if I was all right. Usually, he'd stay with me, rubbing my back reassuringly, and wait until the tears ceased. Once, he even pulled me into a comforting embrace, petting my head until I stopped crying. Honestly, without him there, I don't think I could have lived with any happiness.

But I wasn't the only one with nightmares. Dreams of the night his mother died haunted him. At first, it had come as a surprise that someone so strong could cry. But once, only one time, I had awoken to the cries for his mother. As he had for me, I rushed in to comfort him.

_I shook him awake. To see him struggle like that, the pain on his face, was ripping my heart out. "Connor! Connor!" No answer. "Ratohnhaké:ton!" _

_ He jerked awake, and if I hadn't moved out of the way, our heads would've collided. He panted, placing his face in his hands as he shook. The sweat beads ran down his face. _

_ "Hey…" I muttered as I placed a gentle hand on his forearm._

_ His gaze snapped towards me. "I- I—" he began. _

_ I smiled, and wrapped my arms around his shaking form. "It's okay," I cooed. "It was just a dream. A nightmare. Everything's fine. I'm here now."_

_ At first, he was rigid, as though surprised I would actually embrace him. Soon, he relaxed, and I could feel him ball the fabric of my nightgown in his fist. He pressed his face into the crook of my neck, and I could feel his tears wet my shoulder. _

Ever since that night, I realized he wasn't as strong as he seemed. He still cried. He still _felt. _And I reminded myself of that every time someone mocked him for being "green". I felt closer to him, that bridge of our childhood crossed. We became nearly inseparable. Where one went, the other followed. We were officially the closest of friends. He was my confidant. I trusted him with anything. With all of the nine years we've known each other, we had history.

OOOoooOOOooo

We made our way to the harbor, where Robert waited for us. "Come aboard and feast your eyes, kids!" he greeted from the Aquila. Connor took the first steps onto the plank that was our ramp onto the ship. Robert stopped him. "No, no, no, no, not the left foot! Never the left foot! Horrible luck. Step with your right foot first," he instructed. Connor did as told, and I followed, careful to step with my right foot first.

I watched as Connor pulled on the ship. "She is… sold." It was more of a question than a statement.

"She's come along nicely, Mr. Faulkner," I said.

"Thank you lass," he said nodding to me. He turned back to Connor. "Weatherly and sleek. She'll fetch twelve knots in a stiff gale, ne'er a ship from here to Singapore can outrun her on her best day," he said proudly. Whatever "fetching twelve knots in a stiff gale" meant, I assumed it was a praise to the ship. "Wha'dya say we take her out an show you what she can do first hand."

"Where would we go?" Connor asked.

I ventured astray as they talked about guns and whatnot. I looked up to the crow's nest. "Mr. Faulkner?" I called after he instructed the crew to get the ship moving.

"Yes, lass?" he said, coming up to me.

"Might I go up there?" I asked pointing to the high place.

"Of course! Could always use a lookout!" He waved me off. "You'll like it up there, Charlotte, got a nice view."

I took no further initiative to climb up the mast. It took me a while, but when I finally reached the crow's nest I was amazed. The horizon was laced with clouds, and the ocean ahead seemed to stretch forever. I sat, legs dangling over the edge as Connor captained the ship. I'll admit I was nervous at first, but he seemed to be doing just fine. Honestly, I was thankful that my hair was tied up in my green bow. Without it, I would've had a mouthful of hair. And that wouldn't have been fun.

We stopped all too soon. And I was upset when Mr. Faulkner called me down. "Like it up there?" he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

I nodded enthusiastically. "It's _amazing!" _I chirped.

OOOoooOOOooo

Mr. Faulkner brought us to a sort of tavern. "Oh hullo, Miss Mandy," he called once in. "You're looking every bit as ravishing as I remember." I giggled.

The woman at the bar turned with a grunt. "After all these years you sail all the way to the Vineyard to pay me complements?"

"We're looking for David and Richard Clutterbuck."

"Hn. Nice to see you, too."

We moved to a nearby table, where two men gawked at Mr. Faulkner, who pulled up a chair to sit by them. "Robert Faulkner," the bald one with a few scars said. "Where the hell you been?"

"Sorry for leavin' like I did lads, but where I was going… no one could know. You two working much?"

"Nah… between contracts at the moment," the one with actual hair and a beard said.

"Well, we're looking for gunnery officers. What would you two say to working with me again?"

"We'd be for gettin' into a few more scraps," the black haired one explained.

"Good show!" Mr. Faulkner laughed. "The Aquila is a fine vessel. We're fitting all the guns as we speak…"

I didn't notice when Connor left my side. But the bald man did. "Looks like your friend's about to catch a beatin'," he sneered.

I whirled on my heel to see Connor leering at none other than Benjamin Church. "Where is Charles Lee?" he growled.

Church turned. "I don't much care for your tone, boy." The other man next to him stood. He was an awfully scary man, to say the least… and ugly.

I ran ahead, grabbing Connor's wrist. "You don't want to do this!" I told him.

Bobby came running to our rescue. "Hey… you don't want to be doin' that, Biddle." I assumed Biddle was the scary man.

"Bobby Faulkner turned to wet-nursing? Good you finally realized you're a _shite _sailor," Biddle jeered. This was not going well. I managed to hold Connor back, but I didn't think I could contain two fully grown men.

Thank god for Mandy. She came right in between the two. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Not in here gentlemen. Better still, not at all. Bobby, take your friends and get out," she barked.

Bobby gestured to the two men still at the table. "Let's go boys. Our guns ought to be ready. Come on."

OOOoooOOOooo

I made my way back up to the crow's nest when we came back to the boat. I let Connor and Mr. Faulkner to their conversations. It was quite entertaining to see Connor order for the cannon release. He mad a natural captain. And when he ordered for the powder barrels to be shot, the explosion was more or less satisfying.

My happiness in the crow's nest was short lived when I saw three ships aiming to shoot at us. "ENEMY SHIPS!" I called.

I was relieved when those were destroyed but crushed when I spotted an English frigate, of which I learned about when Mr. Faulkner pointed the crashed one out. "FRIGATE!" I screamed. I almost didn't hear when Connor called for brace. I flung myself onto my stomach, praying that I wouldn't get hit with a cannon. I was horrified when I heard one whiz past me. Only then did I notice the storm. The rain pelted my body like little pinpricks and the wind nearly nocked me out of the crow's nest. Thinking it safe, I headed back to deck.

"You all right?" Connor asked.

I nodded. "Doing fine," I said. It wasn't until a few short moments did we sink the enemy frigate.

OOOoooOOOooo

"I got 'em! All of 'em! You get what I need and I'll give 'em to ya! Simple! You got a ship! Could find 'em all to boot!" an awfully strange man yelled to the crewmembers as they made their way to shore. He greeted them at the edge of the wooden planks. I eyed him suspiciously.

"Who is that man?" Connor asked Mr. Faulkner.

"Him? Some ol' salt always on about some letters he's got from Captain Kidd. Nonsense really but he doesn't hurt no one so I leave him be. Talk to him if you fancy- but be warned he'll chew your ear off. Anyway, the Aquila's here for you if you should get a pang for the open sea. We'll be waiting. Now, I implore you to head up to head up the hill 'fore the Old Man comes out of retirement just for me."


	11. Kanen'to:kon

**Merry Christmas everyone! ^_^**

**DeathDragon130: Thanks! and i'm so sorry . I'll fix that!  
**

**Altair87: Thanks! I'm glad you like the story and Charlotte. and yes *winkwink* friendship ;) I mean... what?  
**

**autumnfierystar04: Thank you soooo much!  
**

**n0stag1c: Thank you lots!  
**

**Ninja Star Light: here you are ~_^  
**

**xVentressx: Thank you!  
**

* * *

Chapter Eleven-Kanen'tó:kon

Three weeks. I knew the trip had taken a few days, but _three weeks?! _I knew I was having an excellent time on the open ocean, but the time elapse was almost too much to bear. Achilles didn't berate us, but he didn't have to. The silence he provided after our apologies was enough to send chills racing down my spine. Connor and I were in the doghouse so to speak.

Though he kept silent for a few moments (which honestly felt like more) he turned back to send a look at us. "Well? What are you waiting for?" he asked.

We followed without another word. Down to the hidden cellar we went. It was an awfully dreary place, really, but I had spent so much time down there that the mold and spiders didn't seem to bother me all that much. Key words: all that much. Spiders horrified me, as they did many. Even Connor would jump when a spider decided to make an appearance.

As I decided to make myself stationary in one of the corners, Achilles sauntered about knowingly as Connor marveled at the robes. "Put them on," Achilles instructed. I had to admit that it took me as quite a shock. Achilles didn't really condone to Connor's touching the robes previously.

When Connor glanced at me, a sort of surprised look playing on his features, I smiled warmly. "Well go on!" I pushed. He nodded. Achilles and I went back upstairs to let him change.

OOOoooOOOooo

He nearly bounded up the stairs. He squirmed around in his new outfit for quite a bit, testing it out. I had to admit it made him look older than fifteen.

"Once upon a time, we had a ceremony on such occasions. But I don't any of us are really the type for that," Achilles said.

I shook my head. "Never been a fan of such things," I commented. "But you have to admit he looks good in those robes."

Achilles laughed lightly at my comments, but looked at us both with authority. "You've you tools and training. Your targets and goals. And now you have your title. Welcome to the Brotherhood, Connor and Charlotte." He patted Connor's shoulder with his unoccupied hand (occupied by his cane, that is) and nodded to me.

We were both quiet until Achilles left the room. "I must admit," I began "that I'm honestly surprised that he made me an assassin."

Connor turned to me, dumbfounded. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, I'm not exactly the typical assassin. I mean, what assassin doesn't fight in hand-to-hand combat?"

"You can," he assured.  
"Well not like you. Sure I can maneuver my way around till I can knock a man on his rump, but I'm not exactly a weapon-wielding hero."

Connor looked at me sincerely. "You are an assassin in your own way, Charlotte. And a great one at that." He pulled the hood over his head.

I tugged at it, smiling. "Thanks," I muttered. His lips pulled up at the corners.

OOOoooOOOooo

Time passed slowly but not without bonuses. As Connor and I trained even more, we grew more and more skilled. Soon enough, the muscles in my arms and legs had grown substantially (I did not look like an extremely strong woman. I was able to lift my own weight up and around). Connor grew more than I would have liked to admit. He towered over me now. He was always tall, that I had gotten used to, but I was only at his shoulder, whereas I used to be at about his chin. I did not like it one bit. Not only did he grow in height, but size. He was so bulky now (strength-wise you perverse people!) that it gave the image of him being even taller than he really was. With my meek size, I felt dwarfed. And I was about five feet five inches, so I wasn't all too short.

I sat on the steps with my glass of water as I watched Connor endlessly beat up that poor training dummy. "Don't you think the poor fellow's had enough of your beatings?" I teased.

Connor never stopped, never said a word. He was working on his maneuvering skills, how to easily go under a man's arms and things like that. But he'd been going at it for two hours now.

"If the dummy hasn't had enough, you have. Get your rump over here and take a breather, would you?" I said loudly, holding up the second glass of water I had gotten for him. He nodded, taking his place next to me on the stairs. He took his water gratefully, chugging it down in one breath. I laughed. "Thirsty weren't you?" He only nodded. I sighed, holding my hand out. "Give it here, I'll get you another glassful." He easily gave up the empty glass.

I returned with two glasses of water instead of one, handing them both to him. "You know, you're doing really well down there," I said as he downed the first glass.

"Thank you," he replied quietly.

I furrowed my brows. "Are you all right? You've been awfully quiet."

"Sorry. I've just been thinking."

"About?"

"The usual," he replied casually.

"You know you really ought to take a break from this every once in a while," I said, gesturing to the setup below.

"And do what?" He was looking at me now, elbows resting on his knees, empty glasses in hand.

I shrugged. "I don't know, talk a long walk in the forest. Maybe even go to Boston for the day just to walk around."

He stood back up. "Maybe."

I huffed. "You overwork yourself, Connor." He merely waved me off, going back to practicing. I held the cups in my hands as I watched. I really should have been training with him, but I myself knew the importance of a break. I wasn't going to train today until later.

When Achilles came down, he patted me gently on the head. I smiled up at him, but looked curiously at the contraption he held in his hand. Seemed like a simple rope with a blade on the end.

"Connor," Achilles called. "Spare a moment?"

Connor turned from his work at our mentor. "Of course."

Achilles handed the outstretched weapon-rope-thing to Connor. "Have a look."

Connor took it carefully. "What is it?" he asked. He began to swing it around in circles.

"A Sheng Biao- or rope dart, if you prefer," Achilles explained. "One of the many plans given to us by Shao Fun to—"

Connor accidentally let go of the rope dart, and it flew into the wall. Scared me, actually. "Give me a heart attack why don't you, Connor!" I cried, hand on my heart for emphasis.

"Sorry," he said quietly, and I wasn't sure if it was to me, or the huffing Achilles.

"We'll have to work on this," Achilles said.

There was a quiet knock on the door. "I'll get it!" I called. I rushed to the door, pulling it open eagerly. Visitors were rare around here. I did not, however, expect the man at the door.

Connor came up behind me. "Kanen'tó:kon?"

Kanen'tó:kon smiled at him. "Yes, my friend." When he caught my eye, he nodded to me with a kind smile of which I returned.

Connor walked past me. "What brings you here? Is the village all right?"

Kanen'tó:kon looked solemnly at his friend. "For now."

"What do you mean? What has happened?"

"Men came, claiming we had to leave. They said that the land was being sold, and that the Confederacy had consented. We sent an envoy, but they would not listen…" Kanen'tó:kon explained. I looked curiously to Connor for his reaction.

To no surprise, he was infuriated. "You must refuse!" he growled.

"We cannot oppose the sachem. But you are right as well. We cannot give up our home."

Connor moved to lean against a pillar of the old manor. "Do you have a name? Do you know who is responsible?"

"He is called William Johnson." Right then I knew exactly what was to happen. Connor was to kill his first Templar.

Connor's rage emanated from him in waves. "Where is Johnson now?" He spoke lowly, dangerously. A sure sign of his anger.

"In Boston, making preparations for the sale."

"Sale?! This is theft!"

"Connor," Achilles called from behind me. When had he gotten there? "take care. These men are powerful."

Connor turned to our mentor. "What would you have me do? I made a promise to my people."

"If you insist upon this course of action, seek out Sam Adams in Boston. He'll be able to help."

I watched curiously as Connor held out his hand to Kanen'tó:kon, who handed him a hatchet from his side. I had seen this somewhere… Just then, Connor flung the hatchet into the pillar. Achilles straightened beside me. "What have you done?" he huffed.

"When my people go to war, a hatchet is buried into a post to signify its start. When the threat is ended, the hatchet is removed," Connor explained.

"You could have used a tree!" Achilles growled at Kanen'tó:kon and Connor's retreating backs. He shoved me forward. "Go with those two buffoons."

I jogged to catch up. "So what are we going to do?" I asked Connor.

Kanen'tó:kon paused for a moment, ultimately stopping all of us. "Wait. Charlotte is going?"

"Of course," Connor stated. His tone suggested that he was a bit confused by Kanen'tó:kon's question.

"Wouldn't she be of hindrance?"

I huffed. "I'll have you know I'm still here."

Connor still seemed confused. "Why would she be?"

"She's a woman, Ratohnhaké:ton! Frail!"

"I can take care of myself, thank you," I growled. Even though Connor and Kanen'tó:kon were always together, I never really enjoyed the man's company. Truth be told, I was only friendly because they were so close.

Connor caught my eye, and the expression he wore told me to calm down. "She'll be fine. She knows how to fight." He laid a hand on my shoulder as if to reinforce his previous statement. I crossed my arms in a tizzy.

Kanen'tó:kon eyed me suspiciously. "How close have you two gotten over this time?" And the tone he was using did not imply friendship.

I blanched. "I don't believe it!" I raised my hands up in the air, ready to storm away at any given moment.

"We are only friends, Kanen'tó:kon," Connor assured, though I could hear the awkwardness lace through his voice.

"Can we just go, before this gets any worse?" I cried.

Connor nodded. "Yes, please."


	12. Strange Feelings

**Hi everybody! ^_^ **

**xVentressx: Yes he must! and Merry late Christmas!  
**

**Kayce Skywalker: oh yes... my points ;) Thanks!  
**

**DeathDragon130: Thank you so much!  
**

**Dawn Princess of the DarkAngel: Glad you liked it! Yes, some parts are meant to be funny :D Thank you thank you thank you!  
**

* * *

Chapter 12- Strange feelings

"Where are we going again?" I asked, shoving a branch out of my way.

"To the village," Kanen'tó:kon explained monotonously. I could tell that he did not want to be around me. He would shut me out, only to answer if I asked loud enough. He nearly stole all of Connor's attention, not that I was desperately seeking it anyway. He didn't like me, that was obvious, and I don't believe that he wanted me around Connor. Perhaps he thought I was a bad influence. In a twisted way, it did my heart good to know that he was protective of him, though I certainly did not enjoy being shut out.

Connor didn't seem to notice. He laughed with Kanen'tó:kon. His smile was enough to shut me up and accept it. He needed this, I could tell. I wasn't about to take that away from him. So, I took it upon myself to stroll behind them peacefully and at a distance, staring out into the forest. Every once in a while, I'd catch a glimpse of a rabbit or a fox before it'd run away.

Ahead, Connor and Kanen'tó:kon shared another laugh. I smiled to myself. Connor's laugh always had a way of brightening my day. I wished he did it more often. All this training, all this worrying about the Templars had to take its toll, let alone the nightmares. To see him happy like that, to see him share a genuine laugh with his old friend, did my heart good.

We had arrived at the village sooner than later. The people milled about, carrying on their daily duties. Though, when they caught sight of Connor, their eyes brightened and they waved happily. I met only one man's eye. He nodded respectively, but did not seem all too pleased at my return. He whispered something to a woman, likely to be his wife.

I shuffled closer to Connor, wary of all of the looks I was getting. He took no mind to my presence, used to it by now, and conversed with Kanen'tó:kon in their native tongue, of which I still knew no word of except "thank you". They stood for a long while, conversing by the fire, so I decided to leave them be and allow them their privacy.

I kept my eyes low as I walked to the lake. I sat at the water's edge, scratching little doodles into the sand. Soon, my mind wandered. What would come of this place if William Johnson got his hands on it? Connor would be devastated. Connor… How was he now? No doubt he was worried. Was there anything I could do to help him? He was, by far, at better fighter than me. But what about stealth? I could try to find out anything I could. I could…

"Are you ready to leave?"

I whirled around. Connor stood over me. How long had I been sitting there? "Uhm." I cleared my throat as I stood, brushing the sand off of my dress. "Where are we going?"

"I must gather some things back at home, then we shall be off to Boston," he explained.

I nodded. "All right."

OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOooo

We weren't far from the manor when we heard pained groans. "What on earth…" I muttered.

Further up on the road was a woman. She lay on the ground in obvious pain. "Bloody hell…" she mumbled. She looked up to us. "Can you help me?"

"Are you alright?" Connor asked.

She studied a bloodied arm. "What do you think?" she said sarcastically.

"How did this happen?"

"Poachers in the woods…I asked them to leave…this was their answer." She gestured to her arm.

I subconsciously looked around. They couldn't be far…

Connor leaned down, grabbing hold of her arm. "Come on. We need to get that arm looked at."

She stood feebly. "What of the men who did this?"

"They can wait. Your wound cannot." He pulled her arm over his shoulders, leaning down to scoop her up. I felt a twang of something deep within my stomach. But what?

I shook all thoughts from my head as I followed them up the road to the manor. "Will you be able to make it to the house?" Connor asked.

"Yes. I think the ball took only flesh." Ah, so she was shot.

"And what is your name?"

"Myriam."

"Do you live nearby?"

"Ah. I don't have a home, per se. I took to the frontier when I was a young girl, I made my life out here ever since- living where the land makes it easiest."

"Not a common choice for a woman of the Colonies."

"No it's not. But truth be told, it was this, the convent, or the brothels. I prefer the open air."

I tuned out any conversation beyond that. I tried to picture Myriam in the brothels, only to reject the idea completely. Myriam was definitely not that kind of woman.

Achilles came out of the manor to help Connor with Myriam, sitting her down on the stairs. I sat down beside her. Connor, however, paced, before rushing off down the stairs.

"Connor!" Achilles called after him. "What are you doing?!"

"Those poachers need to be stopped."

"Saw the scabs from my hunting blind. Get to that and you shouldn't have any trouble finding them," Myriam explained.

"Use the rope dart if you can. Get familiar with it," Achilles called to him. Connor nodded as he began to walk away.

"I'm coming with you," I stated.

He turned. "No. I'd rather not risk you being shot." With that he was gone.

"I don't believe it!" I cried, throwing my arms in the air.

"At least he cares about you," Myriam said, her voice strained as Achilles went to work on her arm.

"But he knows I'm fully capable of taking care of myself!" I huffed, gesturing out to where he once was. "What if _he _gets hurt?"

"Connor will be fine Charlotte," Achilles assured me. "If keeping you here gives him peace of mind, grant him that and stay."

"Fine," I grumbled to myself as I placed my chin in my hands.

"Come, let's take this inside. I've more medical supplies in there," Achilles said. Myriam stood, though she had to lean on me a bit, and went inside.

OOOoooOOOoooOOOooo

I stood in the corner leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and head down. I could not keep my mind off of Connor. I knew he would be fine, but I couldn't contain that twinge of worry that something had gone wrong.

When I heard the front door open, I nearly cried out in relief. Connor sauntered in unscathed, though he seemed quite angered. "Why did those men attack you?" he asked Myriam.

"It's no secret this land is full with game. I spotted the trespassers en route to request permission to hunt here myself and suggested they do the same."

Connor leaned casually against the doorframe. "The bounty of the forest is not mine to give. It is your right to hunt on this land but I would appreciate you trading your surplus with the others."

"Very well, I accept," Myriam said smugly.

After she had left, Connor and I said nothing as we up and left ourselves. We got our horses and made for Boston.

OOOoooOOOooo

"Why wouldn't you let me go with you?" I asked, ending the long silence between us.

"What?"

"Do you not believe I can take care of myself?"

"Charlotte, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Earlier! You would not let me go with you to hunt down the poachers!"

Connor sighed. "Is that what this is about?"

"Yes! I'd like to know why you think I cannot handle myself!"

"I never said that."

"Then tell me why. Why couldn't I go with you?"

"You know it really wasn't that big of a deal. I don't know why you're making it out to be so huge."

"Please, just answer me."

"Not until you tell me what is really bothering you. I know there's something more behind this, Charlotte."

I pondered that for a long moment. Why _was_ I so upset? It wasn't like he told me I could never accompany him on anything. I couldn't control my own mouth when I said, "Because I was worried about you!"

Connor stopped his horse, making me stop as well. "Worried about me?" He looked deep into my eyes, stirring something inside of me. "Charlotte, you know I'll be fine."

"I just- I don't like it when I'm not with you. I don't know, I feel like I can't protect you. And I know you're perfectly capable- beyond so, even- but I've known you since you were five and I was ten. I guess it just feels wrong when you're not there. Like you're going to get hurt. I cannot help but think that everything is going to go wrong. That you're going to come back battered and bruised like that faithful day way back." By now, my cheeks were flaming. To reveal that to him felt…I felt exposed.

"I…"

I was mortified. I laid my head on my horse's neck. "Look," I mumbled into its mane. "Just- just forget I said anything." I flicked the reigns to get my horse moving to a comfortable canter. Oh, this was awfully awkward.


	13. Unwanted Meeting

**Hey Guys! Been a while!  
**

**Birdy: Thank you ^_^  
**

**xVentressx: ;)  
**

**The Biggest Geek In The World: Thanks a bunch! and of course i'll read it! I'd be glad!  
**

**Waiting&Me: Here you are you guys :D  
**

**Please Read: If in any case this chapter is lacking something or is off, please tell me so that i might rewrite it. I lost a pet last night so my brain's a bit mushy. If you do find that this chapter needs something please tell me :D Thanks again guys! Love you all!  
**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen- Unwanted Meeting**

Neither of us said anything as we made our way to Boston. During that time, I reeled in on myself. I just _had _to go and run my mouth, didn't I? I just couldn't keep it to myself. If I could have, I would have hit my head numerous times on a wall. Connor was likely not to want to talk to me for a long while, if not avoid me at any cost. Strangely enough, I caught his eye several times when I looked back, and each he'd drop his eyes just as quick as I had met them. Oh wonderful, he didn't even want to look at me! That is what that meant…right?

OOOoooOOOooo

"Ah! Connor, Charlotte!" Sam began to advance towards us. "Hello again! What brings you to Boston?"

Connor smirked. "You." I do not know why, but that smirk sent something reeling within me. Oh goodness.

Sam turned to the people he was previously talking to. "Would you excuse us fellows?"

We began to walk, Samuel in between Connor and I. "Thank you," he said. "That conversation was about to turn unpleasant. Now, what can I do for you?"

"I was hoping you could help me locate William Johnson," Connor explained.

"He's been causing us a great heap of trouble," I muttered.

"Of course. I'm headed to a meeting with some men who should be able to help. Why don't you come along?" We passed a bunch of angry civilians. "It's good to see the people finally taking a stand against injustice…"

"Says the man who owns a slave," Connor murmured. I turned to look at Sam. I couldn't imagine him, with all his kindness, to own a slave.

"Who, Surry? I practice what I preach, my friend. She's not a slave, but a freed woman… At least on paper." My respect for Samuel Adams lessened. "Men's minds are not so easily turned. It is a tragedy that for all our progress, still we cling to such barbarism."

"Then speak out against it!" Connor barked.

"We must focus first on defending our rights. When this is done, we'll have the luxury of addressing these other matters."

"You speak as though your condition is equal to that of the slaves. It is not." And, with that, my respect for Connor grew immensely. I felt an odd sense of pride.

"Tell that to my neighbor- who was compelled to quarter British troops. Or to my friend who's store was closed because he displeased the Crown. The people here are no freer than Surry."

Suddenly, a voice stood out from all the rest. "Hey, it's my home no matter what you thieves called 'taxmen' say! If the gumps in Parliament who want my property, you tell them to sail across the pond and take it themselves!" My attention was immediately drawn to an angry Frenchman in a window, yelling furiously down at an irked man.

"It's not open for discussion! Now open this door or these men will break it down!" the man below yelled.

The Frenchman disappeared for a small while, only to return with a bucket, pouring it on the man below. That bucket, actually, was filled with urine. I chuckled at the reactions, only to shut up when the Frenchman burst through the door, tackling the man he was arguing with earlier.

"I trust the mounting evidence is proof enough," Sam said solemnly.

"Continue on, we shall meet you at our destination," said Connor. Sam did as instructed, moving on. Connor grabbed my wrist, pulling me along with him to the squabble ahead.

We engaged in a battle immediately, though it was short lived. While Connor hacked away with his tomahawk and the Frenchman yelled angry taunts, I maneuvered around heavy arms, showing up behind to snap a neck, or drive them into a wall. We were finished in nearly a minute.

The Frenchman stood bloodied and panting. "Justice for once. I dare the Governor to send more," he spat (literally).

Connor and I smiled at his attitude. "You alright?" Connor asked.

He waved him off. "I'm fine. It's not my first dance. For all their teeth and claws these little foxes, they fight like puppies." He patted Connor's shoulder. "Thank you, my friend." He looked to me. "_Mademoiselle_." I nodded in response. "I'd buy you ales, but I'm expected somewhere else." With that, he left.

"I quite liked him," I said, watching the man's retreating back.

"Oh?"

"He had a sort of fire in his eyes. He's ready to fight for what is rightfully his."

"I suppose."

"What?" I turned to face him. "Is something wrong?"

A small smile tugged at his lips. "No, nothing." He placed a hand on my shoulder. "We should be going."

"All right."

OOOoooOOOooo

"Connor?"

"Hm?"

"Do you mind if I search for Aggie?"  
"Charlotte, you know what happened last time…" He stopped, looking at me with a certain look in his eyes that I couldn't quite comprehend.

"That was last time. I'll be all right," I reassured.

"But we were to meet with Sam and—"

"Connor, _you _are Samuel's main concern."

He seemed to think for a long while, but he finally let out a breath. "Fine." I smiled, turning to leave before he stopped me by grabbing for my arm. "Just be careful."

I rolled my eyes, a goofy grin plastered on my face. "You needn't worry." I could feel his eyes on my back as I walked away.

I decided to go for something of which I was dreading. I ventured towards my old house. I couldn't forget it. It had been nagging on my subconscious ever since I first stepped foot in Boston. I couldn't forget its location either, for it was forever engraved in my memory.

I took my time getting there, reluctant to even be in the same vicinity. But I couldn't ignore this…this feeling. I saw it long before I wanted to. Its looming presence hung in the small street like death. Death. Mother. I would be walking into the very same building in which my mother died. No. Where my mother was _killed_. I had to go in there. Maybe there were answers. The decrepit state of the building told me that no one had been there in ages. A small lingering hope flickered in the back of my mind that I'd find my mother and sister there, awaiting me with open arms. I pushed it away. Mother was dead and it was a very large possibility that Aggie was too.

The door was locked. Thankfully, Connor had taught me a thing or two in lock-picking. I pushed the old wooden door open gently, careful not to make any sounds, for what reason I had no idea. Did I think that father would be there, waiting for me? Waiting to kill me with that same sword that he had cut me with? A horrid thought entered my mind that I'd find mother's corpse there, rotten and decayed. I realized that I really wished I had Connor with me. He'd be able to keep me sane. But this whole mess was my problem, not his. I couldn't bother him with this.

The immediate smell of mold nearly destroyed my nostrils, I had to cover my mouth with my sleeve not to breathe it in. My previous notion was right. No one had been in here, at least since the incident. All of the old furniture was still here. My eyes watered at sight of mother's vase.

_I laughed as I chased Aggie around the house. "Keep that thing away from me!" she'd screech. I had found a stickbug. Unlike my dear sister, bugs didn't bother me all too much. Except spiders. Nasty things wanted to kill you in your sleep. _

_ "I'm telling mother!" she whined, nearly out of breath. I continued chasing her, regardless of the threat that my mother would be called upon. Aggie would have none of it. "MOM!" she cried, stopping abruptly. _

_I hadn't expected it. I tried my hardest to stop, but I slid right into the small table in the corner, ultimately knocking mother's vase off. The thing fell with a clang, and it was a miracle that it didn't shatter into pieces. I quickly scrambled to put it back on the table before mother got there. _

_ Too late. "_Charlotte Elizabeth Williams! _That's my vase!" Mother hurried over, inspecting the piece for any damage. Only a chip, thank god, but it was enough to set her off. _

I rubbed my thumb over the dusty vase, smiling to myself at the memory it held. My eyes stung with remembrance of my mother. _"I wish I had said goodbye,"_ Ithought.

I continued on the stairs, trudging up them. I winced every time one would creak, as though my father would hear, and come out and chase me. I made my way into my room, where I inspected it up and down. Nothing had changed. Nothing. The map still lay where Edward and I had left it.

_"Where would we go?"_

_Edward pointed to a specific place on the map. "There," he said with finality. _

_"Where's that?"_

_He shrugged with a goofy grin. "I dunno. But I'm sure it's better than what you're dealing with here."_

_I smiled. _

I never found out why Edward wanted to help me. But he insisted that I get away from my father as quick as possible. He wanted to take Aggie with us, as he had grown quite fond of my little sister. _Edward. _He probably knew what happened to her! If I could just find out where he was! But another memory stung my very being.

_Tears began to slowly fall down my face. "Why do you have to go?"_

_"Mother and father want to leave, they want to go back to their families in New York."_

_"But I won't be able to see you!" _

_Edward laughed. "I'm sure mom and papa will allow visitors."_

_"But I won't be able to go."_

_"Then we'll just have to wait until we're older! We'll get married, you and I! Or… we could run away together!" _

_I smiled broadly at the thought._

It's funny how when you're a child everything is narrowed down. No ifs or hows to deal with, only whens. I supposed I would have married Edward, had things not changed. He would have made an excellent husband. But… Connor…

I shook my head. What was I thinking?! I focused on the more pressing matters. Edward was likely to be in New York. If I could find him, I'm sure he knew what had happened to my sister.

I searched my room more, nothing but old books and dolls. But I did find it. It. Such a loose term. But it befitted what I had found. I found _it, _my old journal. It was strewn on my floor. Father had probably read it after the incident. It didn't seem like it had any missing pages.

I sat on my old bed, opening to the front cover. I noticed something I had never noticed before. There, in the bottommost left corner was, in small cursive, _"My dear little Sunbeam. My Charlotte. I hope you keep this journal in remembrance of me. My sweet Lottie, I love you. Never forget that."_

Lydia. How had I never noticed this?! Lydia had written this! _Lydia! _The tears I had been holding back now overflowed. I missed her. I missed her so much. What would she think of me? Of my family? Of what happened? She'd surely know what to do. She could have helped me… she could have saved my mother.

Why had she written this…this memoir? It contained so much finality. Did she know something was going to happen? She probably noticed something with father just as mother had. How could I have been so blind?!

I rushed down the stairs, a new urgency in me. I needed Connor, as crazy as that sounded. He could satiate my unease. He could put my mind to rest.

I stopped just short of where my mother had been murdered. I inched toward the site, trying to hold back my tears, but to no avail. There, on the floor. Blood stains. My mother's blood. I fell to the floor, sobs racking my entire body.

I had to leave. I had to get out of here. I pushed myself off the floor. Making my way to the door I hiccupped, trying to hold back the sobs that would surely make their way out sooner or later. I opened the door, not caring if I did it quietly or not and left it open.

I ran out into the streets, making as much distance between myself and that house as I could. I looked back once. Hell, I wished I never did.

There. In a red, British outfit was the very man I tried so hard to get away from. He was alive. And he was so close. I could kill him then. He was distracted. He looked in awe at the open door, like he had come back every day in hopes that he would find someone. He looked around frantically.

I didn't move, I couldn't, when he locked eyes with me. We stared at each other, shocked. I had really hoped I'd never see him again, but he was obviously elated. He staggered towards me. But I wasn't about to let him get anywhere near me.

I ran. I could hear his frantic, deranged calls behind me. They only encouraged me to run faster. I flew by people, knocking them out of the way, as I tried to hold back my cries. Whether they were of fear or anger I didn't know.

There he was. Walking alone in the streets. He was facing away from me, but he heard my thundering footsteps. Connor turned, a worried look evident on his face.

I plowed into him, nearly knocking him over. I buried my face in his chest, all thoughts of dignity cast aside. I knew he felt awkward and all this was a bit strange, but I didn't care. His presence was enough. I cried hard, though muffled by his chest. I didn't care who saw, who heard. Connor was there and that was enough.

"Ch-Charlotte?" he muttered, placing a hand on my head.

I shook my head. "I saw him."

"Who?" he asked gingerly.

"Father!" I cried. Connor stiffened.


	14. Snowball Fight

**Hey guys! I'm back! I am soooo sorry it took so long!**

**CharmingOwl28: Thanks a bunch! I'll be sure to work on that! And I'll certainly read yours!**

**Ana Croft: Thank you soooooooooooooo much! :D**

* * *

Chapter Fourteen- Snowball Fight

Connor pulled me aside, into an alleyway and sitting me down on a wooden box. "Tell me, where did you go?"

I breathed in heavily, no use in crying about it. It'd only hinder me. "I went to my old home on the outskirts, I had to see if there was anything left behind."

"Did you find anything of relevance?"

I nodded. "I found my old journal. But there were objects worthy of reminiscing in that old house. Those memories in which I found my answers."

His eyes lightened. "You know where your sister is?"

I laughed a hollow, emotionless laugh. "No. But I have a pretty good idea who could tell me."

A sudden noise jerked his attention to the streets. "We will discuss this later. For now we must go to the harbor."

I furrowed my brows as I allowed him to pull me up. "For what reason?"

"We're going to dump the tea."

OOOoooOOOooo

We did exactly that. Well, Connor and I more or less protected those dumping it. I stationed myself on the masts of the two ships, taking down those who opposed our operation from above with a quick flick of the wrist. My dearest throwing knives. Sooner or later though, my supply depleted, and I had to scramble down to the main deck of the ship, rummaging through each corpse for my small knife. Though dear William Molinuex tried to help me, I was surrounded by Regulars. All right.

But there was too many of too high skill for me to take down without complication. As I swirled and ducked, one man sliced through my sleeve, leaving a significant wound on my forearm. Best not to overlook an opportunity. I smacked his sword away from me, using his unpreparedness to my advantage as to rush closer. Close enough to plunge one of my knives deep into his neck.

"Go! I'll be rid of the rest!" William called to me as he rushed to my aid. I nodded, taking this time to scale the ship's mast once more.

As we fought on, I noticed that the tea was almost gone. Anxious to speed up the process, I scurried down and ran over to the tea boxes. Reaching down, I picked up a box and began to throw it over. _BANG. _Right by my head whizzed a bullet. I immediately looked to my right. There, a man (in red, of course) stood smirking with his musket still aimed at me.

Just then, Connor ran by, behind me, and tackled that same man to the ground…with his tomahawk. Ouch. Connor stood, glaring at that man's corpse a little longer than necessary, and turned to walk away.

"Are you alright?" he asked when he reached me.

I laughed, hurling a box over the side of the boat. "Other than just having the daylights scared out of me?" I smiled. "I'm fine."

He was about to say something when Sam came up behind us. "We've done it!" Behind him, William, Paul, and Stephane wore triumphant smiles. We all turned to watch the Redcoats run away.

As we sauntered down the plank, Stephane spoke up. "Connor! We saved the last one for you," he said as he handed Connor a box of tea.

Connor raised it above his head, making the crowd erupt in cheers. In the distance, I saw them. William Johnson, Charles Lee, and John Pitcairn. Connor must've seen them too, for when he dropped the box into the ocean, he did it in such a mocking way as he glared at the three Templars a ways away. I smiled admirably. Stephane came up behind him, tapping him on the shoulder. "Best we get out of here..hm?"

OOOOoooooOOOOO

"Show me what you found," Connor said monotonously. We were on our way back home, to the homestead. As of then, we were walking at a leisurely pace on our horses through the frontier.

I broke my daydream to look at him. "Hmm?"

"You said you had found your old journal."

"Oh! Yes!" I reached into the saddle-pack, taking out the old, leather-bound book. I handed it to him.  
He took it carefully, opening the book with one hand, as he held onto the reigns with the other. I watched as his eyes scanned the pages. "You wrote this?"  
"Yes, of course."  
"It is very…interesting."  
"Thank you, I suppose," I said quietly.

"May I read it when we get back?"

I shrugged. "I don't see why not."

OOOoooOOOooo

We met Achilles at the mound that overlooked the bay. He stared out into the distance, pondering.

"It is done," Connor said quietly as we approached.  
"Johnson is dead?" Achilles inquired, a slight twinge of expectation laced within his tone.

As I stayed behind our mentor, Connor moved in front. "No," he began "he retreated when we destroyed the tea."  
"Only to hatch some new scheme, I'm sure…You should have killed him."  
I shifted uneasily, knowing this would turn into an argument if I did not intervene. "Achilles-"

Connor beat me to it. "There was no need."

The old man laughed quietly under his breath. "Time will tell if you speak the truth." He stood, leaving us at the cliff side.

I grabbed Connor's wrist before he could follow. "Leave him," I said quietly.

"But-"

"I'd rather you two not argue."

"Charlotte…"

I looked him square in the eyes. I smiled. "Why don't we just enjoy the view, huh?"

Although reluctantly, he complied, following me as I bent to sit on a rock. "It is pretty…"

"The sunset above these waters never ceases to amaze me," I muttered quietly. Connor did not reply, but I was glad for it. It gave me time to contemplate things. Should we have gone after Johnson? Perhaps Achilles was right—maybe he was hatching a new plan. But I could never know. Achilles surely was wise, as time _would _tell the truth. There was no way of knowing what Johnson was up to until he actually came up with something.

So we sat there, silent as the sun fell behind the horizon. We did not say anything, for nothing needed to be said. We simply reveled in each other's company. Perhaps that was what I liked so much about Connor- that we did not have to say anything to understand one another.

OOOoooOOOooo

Winter came early, too early. As the snow fell, I simply sat and wondered where time had gone. It felt like just yesterday we threw tea over the ships, but that was three months ago. My days were a blur of practice, study, and sheer boredom.

For some strange reason, Connor had constantly found it necessary to randomly come up behind me and catch me in a duel. I suppose it kept me on my toes.

As I sat in front of a window, watching the snow fall in soft wisps, I heard Connor train downstairs. I thought about going down with him, but he had requested that no one bother him, and I wasn't about to deny him that. He needed concentration, I understood that.

"Having fun?" I heard Achilles say behind me.

I laughed lightly. "Oh yes, _loads."_

He paid no mind to my sarcasm. "The snow is beautiful," he murmured as he came to sit on a chair beside me.

"I suppose it is."

"My wife and I got married on a day quite like this."

I turned my head to meet his eyes. He wore a sad smile, his eyes drooping ever so slightly. "Do you miss her?" I asked quietly, gently.

"Of course."

I smiled. "I'm sure you two had the most wonderful marriage."

"Oh yes, we loved each other dearly." I could see the love in his eyes, the love he had for his wife.

I sighed. "I hope someday to find love like you and your wife," I muttered.

"I loved her very much."

"You still do, I can see it." I straightened. "Love doesn't go away, not really. To say you 'loved' someone merely means that they are gone. And I suppose that is the sad truth of it all." I turned back to gaze out of the window. "But you still love them, because love is endless."

Achilles chuckled. "You speak as though from experience."

I laughed right along with him. "Perhaps I'm simply speaking from an old maid's perspective."

"Do you miss her?" That voice made me turn to the doorway. It was Connor, of course, lounging casually against the doorframe.

"Pardon?"

"Lydia," he said plainly.

That name struck something in me. "Yes." For a few moments, Connor and I just stared at each other. It was not awkward, we didn't have to say anything. We empathized for one another, although silently.

Achilles stood. "I will go start supper."

"I'll help!" I called.

"I've got it," he said as he waved me off. I smirked at his retreating back.

Connor nodded as he passed by. He pushed off of the door frame, joining me at the window. "Would you like to go outside?" he asked quietly.

I smiled. "I thought you would never ask."

We picked ourselves up, barging through the door, knowing what the other would do. We each leaned down, scooped a handful of snow, and aimed it at the other.

I smirked. "Oh I'm going to get you!" I threw the snow at his face, hitting the mark, but not before getting a face full of snow myself.

We laughed as we chucked snowballs at one another. We dashed behind trees, bushes, anything to cover us from the frozen bombardment. "There is no use hiding!" Connor would call as he sprinted towards my petty hiding spot, pelting me with a snowball the second I stood to flee.

Soon enough, however, my hands were frozen. I rubbed them together as I blew hot air onto them. "The one thing I despise about winter," I grumbled.

Connor came up to me. "Here," he muttered as he took my hands. He breathed onto them.

My embarrassment was enough to warm me. I realized there was something there, something within me that adored him. More so even. And as his lips brushed my fingertips I nearly melted like the snow. Oh yes, there was definitely something there.

His hair fell across his face as he continued to rub my hands fervently to keep them warm. His own hands were so warm, it almost made no sense. But I did not care. He was so close…

"There," he spoke, driving me from my trance. He lifted his head. "Now—" he froze. His eyes locked onto mine. Our close proximity should have made me back up, lower my head, and apologize. Well, first of all, it was not my fault, us being so close. Second, I didn't mind.

His mouth tried to form words, but all that came out was a pitiful "Uhm…"

I shook my head, forcing myself to look away. "S-sorry," I muttered as I backed away, careful not to meet his eyes.

"N-no…it is my fault."


	15. Johnson is Dead

**I would like to apologize, for i have not been writing (in any of my stories) for quite some time. But when school is out i promise you i will write much more!**

**Punk Rocker Fairy: ;)**

**HidanKakuzuFanGirl: here you are darlin'**

* * *

Chapter 15- Johnson is Dead

It was spring, finally, and Connor and I had found it quite a bit easier to train, as our energy was higher and our spirits lifted from the new season. The birds were chirping, the forest green with new life, and the fresh air allowed for happier days. And as we sat in the kitchen, eating a meal prepared by Achilles, we found it hard for our gazes not to wander out the window.

"I love spring," I muttered as I observed a robin hopping around.

"It is…exuberating?" Connor said as though questioning the use of the word. English _was_ his second language after all.

As I kept my gaze on the bird I smiled. "I suppose so." Achilles merely grunted in agreement.

The sudden slamming of the door jolted Connor and I from our seats and we followed the sound of Kanen'tó:kon's voice screaming, "Ratohnhaké:ton! Ratohnhaké:ton!"

Connor surged forward. "Kanen'tó:kon! Why are you here? Has something happened?"

Kanen'tó:kon seemed frantic. "William Johnson has returned- with all the money required to buy our land. He meets with the elders as we speak. I have begged them to resist. But I fear he shall have his way unless you intervene."

Connor was _angry. _"How is this possible?" he growled. "We destroyed the tea."

Achilles pushed past me. "The Templars are nothing if not resourceful. You should have heeded my warning."

Kanen'tó:kon shot Connor a pleading look. "Please. You have to stop him."

Connor stormed to the door. "Of course." He turned to his friend. "Can you tell me where they are meeting?"

I followed Achilles as he watched their retreating backs. "You should go with them," he muttered.

I sighed. "Yes, but-"

Achilles shot me a hard glance. "Go."

I nodded as I crept behind them, allowing them their anger. I had never seen either of them so _pissed. _Connor most of all. I mean, he really was only angry like this when his people were involved, which they were of course, but with the Templars involved as well…his eyes showed sheer rage.

I followed them up a steep hill, where they shared a conversation in their language. Connor ran off into the trees. I figured I should let him go, he didn't notice my presence anyway. So, I sat next to Kanen'tó:kon, looking out into the water.

He seemed surprised when I sat myself next to him. "What are you doing here…?"

"Well, I was told to follow you two," I said.

His eyebrow rose. "Then why are you not following him?"

"I supposed I should let him take care of this," I shrugged as I placed my elbows on my knees, my chin in my hand. "If he doesn't come back in an hour then I shall aid him. But I'm certain he can take care of himself."

He huffed as he gazed back to the water but did not say anything. Connor took no longer than forty minutes. He returned soaked to the bone. "I guess you went for a dip?"

He gave me a smirk but turned to his friend, serious. William Johnson is dead," he said.

"Good," Kanen'tó:kon said monotonously.

"What were his final words?" I asked.

"I will tell you later."

OOOOoooooOOOOoooo

Connor stood, staring at the paintings of the Templars we were after. "I thought it might bring clarity. Or instill a sense of accomplishment. But all I feel is regret," he said quietly.

I observed from my spot on the stairs as Achilles came up behind him. "Hold fast to that. Such sacrifices must never come lightly."

"I had to do it. Not only for my people, but for all the others Johnson would have harmed."

I was going to voice my opinion, to say that Connor was right, but I felt as though I should let our mentor teach him a valuable lesson, and me as well. "It's a start," the old man explained. "But to truly be free of Templar influence, all of them must be dealt with in turn. Even your father."

"I know," Connor snapped.

Achilles seemed to give him a forlorn look, though I couldn't see quite well enough. "You speak the words," he said, "but do you believe them?"

A rattling upstairs turned all of our attentions upstairs. "Seems we've company," Achilles said.

"Should I see…?" I began, standing from my spot on the stairs.

"No, I will do it," Achilles answered.

It was simply a man at the door, giving a letter to Achilles.

"What is it," Connor and I asked at the same time.

"A request for aid from Paul Revere. Seems the Redcoats are up to something in Boston. Guess you made an impression on the Sons of Liberty." Achilles smiled at us.

"They mistake us for their own," Connor retorted.

"Well—"

Connor ignored me and turned to the man at the door. "Please tell Mister Revere he has our sympathies, but we cannot help at the present."

"Speak for yourself…" I grumbled.

"You might wish to reconsider," Achilles warned. "John Pitcairn is mentioned by name."

Connor snapped to attention. "Where am I to go?" I threw my hands up in exasperation. You give the man a name…

"Mister Revere's house in Boston. If you'd like I can…" the elderly man at the door began. But Connor shoved right by him.

I scoffed. "You must forgive him, sir. Once he gets his mind set, he tends to become a little bitter," I told the kind man.

He smiled. "I understand, it is alright."

I smiled at him, mouthing a thank you as I rushed off after said bitter man. I waved to Achilles, who returned the gesture.

Once I reached Connor, I punched him square in the arm.

He turned to me. "What was that for?"

"'What was that for'?! You completely disrespected that kind old man. And even worse you _shoved him out of the way. _And you ask me why I punched you?!"

He seemed dumbfounded. "I—"

I put my hand in front of his face, quieting him. "Don't. Let's just go."

He never said another word. Which was good, as I might have blown up at him. And as we rode to Boston I'd catch him glance at me every once and a while, opening his mouth like he was to say something, but shut it inevitably.

Halfway through our ride, he finally said something. "I am sorry…"

I turned to him. "Really?" I deadpanned.

"I realize I have a bit of a temper…and when a Templar is involved I believe I just snap."

"It really isn't me you should be apologizing to."

"I doubt I will see that man again."

"Then for his sake, apology accepted."

"Thank you."

"Mmhmm."

"Charlotte?"

"What?"

"Are you going to go find that man? The man you believe knows where your sister is?"

"After I help you, I suppose. Why?"

"May I come with you?"

"Of course. But might I ask why?"

His gaze was transfixed on the horse's mane. "I do not want you getting hurt."

I flushed. There it was, that feeling, that flip in my stomach, that clench in my heart. _What was going on? I couldn't be…maybe. But would he return my feelings?_ The last thing I needed was Connor to avoid me. But why did he not want me to get hurt? Could he…? No, Charlotte. Do not fill your mind with such fantasies. He thought of you as a friend, that's all.

Besides, he was busy and I was busy. We didn't need a relationship in the mix. Oh, that would change everything.

* * *

**Again, I apologize. In addition, I'm sorry for this being so short! **


End file.
